


What You Smell Like

by CloseToSomethingReal



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Chained sex, Double Penetration, Drugged Sex, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Hemipenes, Hurt No Comfort, Knotting, Mating Plug, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Penile Spines, Physical mutilation, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Wing Mutilation, pinioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloseToSomethingReal/pseuds/CloseToSomethingReal
Summary: Crowley wanted Aziraphale. Lucifer wanted Michael. Neither could ever have the angels that they desired.It was just a game. Let Lucifer pretend that he was the Archangel and Crowley would at least get some pleasure out of the experience.No matter how much it hurt, how unpleasant things got, or how Lucifer seemed to grow worse with every passing century, it was just a game. Crowley got something out of it.It was just a game. Until it wasn't.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley, Lucifer/Crowley, Lucifer/Michael
Comments: 40
Kudos: 57
Collections: Unhealthy Lucifer/Crowley fics





	1. After Eden

Crawly had been fairly pleased with himself when he reported back to Hell. 

No one who had sent him up there, certainly not Lucifer himself, had expected Crawly to manage much. 

There were four angels guarding the gates of Eden, Crawly hadn't even expected to get passed the gates. 

But he had done  _ so much  _ more than that.

He'd never been  _ celebrated  _ before, but he got more than a couple claps on the shoulder as he stumbled back through the halls of Hell, still mostly in shock.

He hadn't expected The Lord to throw Her pets away. 

But he didn't know why he hadn't expected such a reaction. It was precisely what She had done with  _ him _ . She might  _ claim _ to be slow to anger, but once you set Her off, she only seemed to have one idea of how to deal with you. 

She tossed you away like you were  _ nothing.  _ Gave up on you entirely and cast you out into Hell. 

Or, in the case of Adam and Eve, the desert. 

“Crawly!” 

The red hair demon whirled around at the sound of his name. 

Before him stood another demon, with a face he recognized from before the Fall, although it now had rot and decay and pustules swelling across it, and flies buzzed around their head. 

Crawly couldn’t quite remember the name they had chosen for themself, so they didn’t use one. 

He  _ did, _ after all, recall that this was the Prince of Hell. He had best be respectful. “Yes, lord?”

“Lord  _ Beelzebub. _ Oh, right, you’ve been on the surface this whole time. You’d better learn some names, and quickly. Anyways, Satan wants to see you in his office. I’m to ezzzcort you there.” 

“S- Satan. Wants to see  _ me?” _ Crawly’s voice sounded more like a squeak. 

Satan hadn’t made him nervous, not back in Heaven by the name of Samael. 

But  _ now _ , things were different. They weren’t angels with questions and complaints, they were demons, ruled by the only angel who had dared challenge the Almighty directly. 

Lord Beelzebub grimaced. “Says you’ve done excellent work. Wantzzz to speak to you personally. Come on, Crawly, thizzz way.” 

Beelzebub didn’t give Crowley another chance to ask questions, which was frustrating, given it was what he had wanted to do all along, but he followed them down the grungy halls without a complaint. You didn’t complain to the Prince of Hell, particularly not when they were bringing you to meet  _ Satan. _

You shut your mouth and followed. That was what Crawly did. 

He didn’t argue, he didn’t fuss, he followed Beelzebub all the way to a set of large, jet black stone doors. 

Beelzebub knocked. “Lord Satan? The demon  _ Crawly _ you requested to see is here.” 

A melodious voice Crawly recognized from Heaven answered. “Send him in, Beelzebub.”

Beelzebub pulled the large black door open. “In you go, Crawly.” 

Crawly didn’t argue, he stepped through the door, stone uncomfortably warm on his bare feet. 

He couldn’t see anyone standing in the large stone room with him, but that didn’t mean no one was there. Lucifer was not the Almighty, he wasn’t omnipresent, but he was always there when you thought he wasn’t. Crowley knew that. 

He took a deep breath. “Lord Satan?”

His voice wavered as he spoke. 

There were footsteps behind him, but Crawly forced himself not to turn around, to stand still with his back straight as a hand touched his shoulder. “You’ve done impressive work, Crawly,” the musical voice from earlier was back, but now it felt as though it gnawed on the inside of his skull, resounded between his ears. 

It made him want to wince, but he made himself take a deep breath and stay still. “Thank you, my lord,” he said, voice just a hint less shaky than before. 

“How ever  _ did _ you come up with it?” Lucifer asked, grip tightening on his shoulder. 

“I- I just- I knew the Almighty commanded them not to eat of the tree, my lord, and I saw the woman, her husband ignoring her. I asked her  _ why _ she couldn’t eat of the tree.” 

Crawly’s skin crawled as he felt Lucifer’s breath, hot against the back of his neck. “You always did like that word,  _ why.” _ He remarked, circling Crawly, although the demon still couldn’t focus on what he looked like. “So I think I’ll ask you my own question, beginning with  _ why. _ Tell me, Crawly, why do you smell like an angel? You  _ reek _ of divinity the sulfur should have washed clean of your essence.” 

Crawly froze, a shudder running up his spine. 

He couldn’t tell the truth, that he’d spoken with the guardian of the Eastern gate, a large angel with white-blond hair who had given way his flaming sword and lifted a wing to shelter Crawly when it began to rain.

An angel Crawly had never met before, hadn’t even gotten a name for, but who had spoken to him like an equal, not something he had just stepped in. 

“The Almighty has been all around that little playground, my lord. I must have picked it up in the garden. I’m sure it will fade with time.” 

The grip on his shoulder turned pointed, claw-like nails digging into Crawly’s flesh through his flimsy robe. “You misunderstand, Crawly. You  _ don’t _ smell like the Almighty, or like Heaven. You smell like an  _ angel.  _ You haven’t been… fraternizing, have you?”

“N- no, my lord, I may have  _ passed _ an angel on my way back out of the garden, but-”

“Stop  _ lying _ to me, Crawly! You reek of divinity and feathers and grace and you  _ lie _ to me about it! I may have taken mercy, if you would have told me the truth, the truth is all I asked! But you  _ refuse _ to grant it to me!” Lucifer snarled, suddenly slamming Crawly up against one of the black stone walls, a hand at the serpent’s throat. “Did you  _ beg _ it to fly you back up? Plead with it to bring you back to Heaven as though that was ever going to fix you?” 

“No, no, my lord!” Crawly cried, clawing at the hand at his throat, struggling to breathe. “It was a mistake it won’t happen again, Lord Satan, I swear it!”

The hand on Crawly’s throat let go, dropping him back onto his bare feet. “It  _ won’t _ , you know. You’re broken and twisted beyond repair. Even if you could  _ claw _ your way back up to the Silver City, they would cast you back down on newly broken wings and leave you for  _ me. _ ” 

“I don’t want to go back, my lord,” Crawly said, voice breaking as he gasped for air. 

"I'm the only one who's ever going to  _ want you,  _ Crawly, don't you realize that?" Lucifer's voice got soft and ominous as he spoke, a clawed finger traced down the back of the demon's spine. "The Almighty cast you out. I'm the only creature left that still sees your existence as something worthwhile. And you run off, behind my back, betraying me and cosying up to the first angel to find. I think something needs to be done about it. Something show you where your loyalties lie."

"With you, my lord, always with you," Crawly gasped, and the clawed hand pushed down on his shoulder.

"Prove it, then. Get on your knees, darling Crawly, and prove who you're loyal to."

Crawly didn't know any better, didn't know that he should argue. He fell to his knees the moment Lucifer ordered it, expecting to be told to bow his head in worship. 

All he could see was a black tattered robe and long legs. 

Lucifer pulled his robe up over his head and tossed it aside. He had pale skin, long limbs and smooth, formed muscles under his flesh. 

Crawly didn't know much about the human form, but he did  _ know,  _ to an extent, what sat proudly between Lucifer's legs, already swollen and red and heavy. 

"Open your mouth."

"My lord?" 

Something smelled so entirely off about this all, like nothing that had ever touched Crawly's tongue before and he didn't like it. 

"Open you  _ mouth,  _ Crawly, and prove where your loyalties lie." 

"I don't under-"

Lucifer sank a fist into Crawly's red hair, jerked him forward as he was still speaking. He forced himself into Crawly's mouth, all the way to the back of his throat where he gagged and his eyes began to water. 

Crawly scrambled to try to get away, but Lucifer held him tightly by his hair.

The devil let out a wanton groan as he collided again with the back of Crawly's throat, using both his grip on the demon's hair and his own thrusting hips to push himself further and further each time. 

Panicked, Crawly tried to pull back again, teeth grazing the hard, hot flesh crammed into his mouth, pushing at the back of his throat like a battering ram. 

"You keep your teeth tucked away from my cock, or you'll  _ really _ suffer," Lucifer hissed, giving Crawly's hair a harsh yank, sending pain blossoming into his scalp and forcing his cock further down Crawly's throat. 

He couldn't breathe at all, tears streamed unstoppably down his cheeks, he needed to get away but he couldn't. 

Lucifer's breathing grew sharp and eratic the longer he had Crawly forced into his cock, the smell Crawly had noticed grew heavier and heavier in the air until he was drowning in it, head swimming and begging for air, snot and drool and tears dripping down his face. 

His thrusts sped up, getting faster, sloppier and more frantic until he finally shouted something Crawly  _ never  _ thought Lucifer would cry out, and something hot and salty spurted into the back of his throat, which he fought to spit out even while Lucifer refused to let him go, kept his cock buried in the serpent's mouth for a good couple of moments before he finally pulled out. 

Crawly sat on the floor, slack-jawed with drool and  _ whatever  _ Lucifer had shot down his throat trailing out from his mouth in strands, splattering onto the floor. 

"I would have expected a snake to be better at that," Lucifer remarked with a sniff, "but I suppose it will do for the first time."

Crawly couldn't speak. He finally managed to close his mouth, swallowing down the salty secretion and the saliva pooling in his lower jaw. "F- first time?"

Lucifer smiled, a sinister smile. "Oh, I think you're loyal after all. But I  _ am  _ going to need some… relief from time to time. I think we could make quite the arrangement out of this."

"I- I-" Crawly's jaw ached, his throat burned. He couldn't imagine doing what had just happened again. 

"Oh, don't you worry, darling little snake. As a reward for your loyalty, we can make this arrangement… benefit  _ you _ as well. Stand up, Crawly."

Crawly had learned better than to disobey by now. He pulled himself up on shaking knees, praying this would be the end of things if he just  _ listened _ . 

But it didn't seem to be ending. Lucifer tore Crawly's own robe from his shoulders, looked down with a frown. 

"You saw the woman, did you not?" 

Crawly nodded. 

"Before she clothed herself in fig leaves?" 

Another nod. 

"Copy hers, and I'll show you just how beneficial this arrangement can be, Crawly."

Crawly didn't have to ask what Lucifer meant. To terrified to refuse, the demon obeyed. 

"Good boy, darling snake," Lucifer hissed, a hand sinking back into Crawly's hair as he backed the demon against the wall, dug rough fingers into the flesh of Crawly's thigh and lifted him off the ground. 

Crawly had to remind himself not to fight, even as Lucifer jerked him back down, atop his again-hard cock, which pushed inside of Crawly with a pain like fire through his insides. 

Crawly cried out, squirmed, trying to get away but it just hurt worse when he moved. Lucifer's cock felt like a hot spear jammed into his insides, pushing and tearing him apart. 

Lucifer petted his hand soothingly through Crawly's red curls. "Hush now, relax, it'll get better soon."

Crawly didn't believe him as the hand in his hair lowered, pushed into the folds Crawly had created at Lucifer's whim and pressed  _ hard  _ into a spot that set all his nerve endings alight. 

It was entirely too much, but Lucifer didn't stop, even as Crawly wailed his fingers jerked sloppily over the small nub he had found, each flick sending another overwhelming thrum through Crawly's veins, he tried to get away but Lucifer held fast, began thrusting himself further into Crowley and while it still hurt there was a dizzy-hot feeling beginning to burn in his stomach, each pass of Lucifer's fingers bringing him closer to something he didn't even recognize but knew his  _ body  _ told him he wanted, breathing getting short and fast as he was thrust into, little nub jerked back and forth and Crawly felt insatiable, like he  _ needed  _ each pass of Lucifer's fingers or the sensation in the pit of his stomach would drive him absolutely mad. 

As suddenly as it had come on, the feeling errupted through Crawly's entire body. He thrashed and cried out, muscles tensing as pleasure flooded every system in his body. Slick soaked him below, slick that hadn't been there before, made Lucifer's cock slide more easily and fingers glide across his now- oversensitive nub with ease. 

The next brush of Lucifer's thumb made him howl, but the devil didn't stop. With vindictive precision he pushed Crowley back up the steep hill he'd just fallen from, each minute touch driving him wild and making him lurch away, in polar opposition to the way it made more sick pleasure mount in his stomach. 

The feelings climaxed again as Lucifer grunted, hips stuttering, and the same warm fluid from earlier spurted inside of Crowley, hot and almost uncomfortable. When Lucifer finally withdrew, put Crowley back on his shaking legs, the demon could  _ feel  _ whatever it was Lucifer had spilled inside of him dripping down his legs. 

His mind was hazy and pleasure-drunk, although he didn't know why he was pleased with what had happened. 

Lucifer didn't so much as offer to help him with his robe. "You see, Crawly? I think our little arrangement is going to benefit us both greatly. Now, off you go, back to the surface. I'll summon you again soon, and we can have ourselves a little fun." 

Crawly picked his robe up from off the floor, pulled it back over his head. His groin was still dripping something sticky down his legs.

He instinctively knew he didn't want to leave looking like this, tears and snot poured down his face, legs dripping with some unknown substance, but he didn't have a choice. Lucifer wasn't offering him a choice. 

He stepped out the large black doors and miracled himself a small cloth to wipe his face and swollen lips with. 

And then, without another choice, he returned to the surface. 

As he stepped out into the desert sand, he finally got a chance to think about what Lucifer had cried out when he'd thrust into Crawly's throat. 

He'd cried out a  _ name.  _ Not Crawly's, not another demon's. 

_ Michael.  _


	2. The Flood

“Tell me what She’s doing, Crawly,” Lucifer hissed the second Crawly stepped into the room, still dripping with rain. The drops sizzled as they hit the floor, a testament to just how hot the room was. Crawly felt a trickle of sweat trace down his face. “Tell me  _ why _ we’ve not seen numbers like this  _ before.” _

There was thrill on the air, a smell Crawly had learned to associate with arousal as it washed over his flickering tongue. “She- She’s drowning the humans, my Lord. To destroy the nephilim and rid the world of sinners.” 

“Drowning  _ all _ the humans?” Lucifer asked, turning to face Crawly, one black eyebrow lifted as his interest was piqued. “All her precious little pets?”

“No, my Lord,” Crawly replied, taking a deep breath. “She has instructed one man to build an ark, fill it with two of every animal on Earth, and all of his family. They alone have been deemed worthy of surviving. His name is Noah.” 

“And where did you learn that?”

It was a game they played, now. Now that Lucifer didn’t have to force Crawly to his knees when he wanted him, they played a bit of a game with Crawly’s information. 

Lucifer  _ knew _ it came from the angel. Crawly could do all he wanted, could bathe in  _ sulfur  _ before stepping foot in Lucifer’s office, and the devil would still detect a whiff of the angel’s scent. 

But that was part of the game, now. Crawly had heard Lucifer cry out the name of an angel more than once as he shook apart, he  _ liked _ it when Crawly made it easy to imagine he was the Archangel Michael. 

“I heard it while I was poking around, my lord,” Crawly said, which was not even remotely true.

“Not from the angel in the garden?” Lucifer asked, eyebrow raising even higher. 

“No, my Lord, not from the angel.”

“Then tell me, Crawly, why you  _ reek _ of his scent? You smell of divinity and-” 

Lucifer leaned in close, sniffed at Crawly’s hair. “And salt. Did he  _ cry _ into your shoulder, Crawly? Did you  _ let _ him?” 

Crawly’s nose twitched, he pretended to look disgusted even though that was  _ exactly _ what had happened. "Why would I do such a thing, my lord?" 

Lucifer snarled, a hand gripped the shoulder of Crawly's robe and flung him at the wall with shocking strength. 

His head slammed into the stone, the world got dizzy and fuzzy but Lucifer didn't stop. He pressed Crawly up against the wall, did nothing about the obvious blood and red hairs and bit of scalp stuck to the stone where the serpent's head had been crashed into it. 

Crawly's ears were ringing. A familiar panic was settling into his bones as Lucifer approached. 

He knew the devil only meant to play with him before he pinned the serpent to the wall and took what he liked. He knew if he played the game well, he would be rewarded with his own pleasure. His own half of the arrangement. 

And now was no time to give up his act. 

Lucifer didn't want Michael in the normal sense, Crawly knew that. 

He wanted to destroy her, to dominate her. When he played this game he  _ wanted  _ Crowley terrified and submissive. 

Clawed fingers dug into Crawly's hip through his robe. "What have I told you about lying to me, my darling little snake?" He hissed, punctuating his question by pushing hard at Crawly's hip, heard it crash most satisfyingly into the wall as pain blossomed in Crawly's body, so intense he could barely stand.

"I tell you no lies, my lord," Crawly's voice was shaking now, pain and fear lighting up his veins but he knew what he was to say. 

"You're  _ lying!"  _ Lucifer growled, grabbing Crawly by one thin, boney wrist and throwing him into the ground.

The demon heard something snap when his hands struck the ground. He tried to pull himself up with his hands, but his left wrist gave out almost immediately in a blinding flash of searing-hot pain. 

"Liars get  _ punished,"  _ Lucifer hissed in his ear. Rough hands tore Crawly's robe from his shoulders, left him bare and exposed on the hot floor of the office. 

So this was how it would be. Crawly subtly rolled onto his back, thinking he knew well where this was going. 

Lucifer would fuck him now, slam his hips into the stone floor and thrust until Crawly begged him to stop. 

Lucifer didn't seem impressed. "Get on your hands and knees." 

Crawly faltered. 

He couldn't mean that. If Crawly got on his hands and knees he would have to support himself on the wrist that burned the moment he touched it to the ground. "My lord, I-"

Lucifer's hand slapped across Crawly's cheek so hard he tasted blood. "Did you just  _ argue _ with me?" He demanded, grabbing the demon by his bruised hips and forcing him to lie on his stomach.

From there, he admired his view, bloody gash in the back of Crawly's head and mottled bruises forming along his hip and thigh. "You make for quite the sight like this. Maybe the Almighty had a point, cursing you to crawl on your belly. Would you crawl on your belly if I fucked you like this?"

Crawly didn't reply. 

"We'll find out later. On your hands and knees.  _ Now." _

Crawly didn't argue again, he hauled himself up onto his knees, hesitantly placed his hands in the ground. 

He tried to keep weight off of his left wrist, but Lucifer was on top of him in an instant, forcing all of his weight onto Crawly's thin shoulders. 

The demon yowled in pain as his wrist was forced to bear the weight of not only himself but Lucifer. 

"Head down. I think this time we can explore the  _ other  _ half of what the Almighty offered you, since you can't resist her tempting angels."

Crawly could barely focus for the pain in his wrist, he made a confused noise. 

"On your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat for the rest of your days. It's been a while since the floor was cleaned. I think your idle tongue will find it has better things to do than chitchat with angels."

A rough hand sunk into Crawly's hair and slammed his face down towards the ground. His teeth and lips were bloodied when he hit the ground without expecting it, but he didn't complain. 

It was better he didn't. 

"There's a good coating of slime and dirt and dust. Lick it up." 

It was beyond humiliating, but Crawly did as he was told. He opened his bloodied mouth, drew his long, serpentine tongue across the rough stone. 

Dirt, stone chips, muck, and the taste of  _ sex  _ clung to Crawly's tongue, he wanted to spit it out, to scrape the taste off but he couldn't. He made himself lower his face again, lick another broad stripe of stone. 

"Good boy," Lucifer said in a rare moment of praise. 

He heard the shuffling of clothing behind him, braced himself the best he could for what was coming. 

It was easier if he relaxed, but he couldn't help tense up when fingers latched onto his hips and Lucifer slammed into his plainly exposed cunt. 

He let out a garbled noise of complaint at the sudden intrusion, which felt like fire and brimstone all through his insides as Lucifer forced his full length into Crawly without even a second though, and the demon swore he could feel himself tear beneath the devil. 

Lucifer held Crowley's hips high as he fucked the demon, making his wrist take his full weight. It hurt like nothing Crawly had ever experienced. 

"Shut it, whore," Lucifer growled, driving himself deep as he could into the demon. 

Crawly groaned in agony, face still pressed into the hot stone, tongue still lavishing the floor because he had been ordered to do so and you didn't disobey orders. 

It didn't get any easier. Friction tore through Crawly's insides, his cunt felt red and raw within minutes. It couldn't be comfortable for Lucifer, either, but the devil didn't say anything.

Finally, as though just remembering that this was a game they were both meant to enjoy, Lucifer snaked a hand along the fine bone of Crawly's hip to where his two legs met. 

"Please," Crawly gasped, tears streaking his cheeks. Lucifer was  _ so close,  _ and if Crowley could only find some relief this would all feel better for both of them. 

Lucifer might have chuckled, and he stabbed a vicious finger into the sensitive little pearl Crawly had actually grown rather fond of since being shown its uses. 

But now it just  _ hurt.  _ Crawly let out a squeal, and Lucifer  _ laughed.  _ He laughed as Crawly squirmed and tried to get away from his vicious touch, the way his arm collapsed out from under him when he tried to move, wrist swollen and puffy and the pain of it was trying him mad. 

"Hands and knees," Lucifer hissed when he realized Crawly's elbow had crashed into the ground. 

"I- I- I- I  _ can't,"  _ Crawly whispered, his arm refused to even contemplate moving. 

Lucifer snarled, reached down and jerked Crawly's elbow off the ground, forced him back onto his hands. The pain was blinding and intense, cut in no way by the tormenting of the little nub or Lucifer's brutal thrusts. 

Crawly sobbed, and Lucifer released his arm.  _ "Don't  _ even think about falling again," he warned. 

Worst of all was that some part of it felt  _ good. _ Though each time Lucifer drove his fingers into the sensitive little nub Crawly cried out in pain, but somewhere deeper inside it did feel  _ good.  _ It was dizzying, to be in so much pain, only worse with Lucifer's rough and relentless fingers and still feel arousal and pleasure building in the pit of his stomach. 

He was certain he was  _ bleeding _ , but it didn't stop the confusing feeling mounting in his stomach. 

In a way, Crawly was relieved. Maybe that feeling meant Lucifer didn't mean to  _ hurt  _ him, was just experimenting, playing another game. 

Still, it was hard to ignore how much everything Lucifer was doing  _ hurt.  _ Crawly's breath was bubbling in his nose, tears and snot flowing freely and adding to the mess Lucifer was making him lick up. 

He could feel the dizzying pleasure pressing urgently at his mind, seconds away from just letting go despite how much it hurt when Lucifer howling, plunging himself all the way to the hilt inside of Crawly's body, a hot jet of seed spurting inside. 

And that wasn't all. 

Something  _ swelled  _ at the base of Lucifer's cock, uncomfortably so, pressing hard into Crawly's walls and leaving him unable to pull away even if he wanted to. 

Lucifer was  _ stuck.  _ Crawly started to panic the more he squirmed, trying to get away but pulling just made him ache even more.

It  _ hurt,  _ stretched more than Crawly was designed to stretch. He cried out, feet scrambling on the stone but Lucifer held fast. 

It felt more like a red-hot iron rod, tearing him apart from the inside. 

He tried to pull away again, but it was then that he noticed. 

Lucifer was too big to fit back out without hurting. Without hurting even more than it already did, without really tearing skin and muscle apart. 

The devil's hips rocked back and forth, clearly unconcerned. Within a few minutes another load of seed shot off in Crawly's cunt, squelching uncomfortably with the rest, filling his insides with a sickening heat. 

And still, the pressure didn't let up. Crawly couldn't get away from Lucifer no matter how hard he tried. 

An eternity and several other spurts of seed later, the pain finally subsided and Crawly immediately crawled away from Lucifer. 

The devil didn't stop him as he got a few feet away, flopped onto his back, cradling his wrist to his chest and gasping for air. "What-"

He couldn't get the words to form. The arousal that had coiled in his stomach was turning to cramps, unsated and wounded. Seed trailed down the insides of both his legs, he could barely breathe. "Wh-" 

He couldn't even make himself speak. 

Lucifer stood slowly and stretched, lurking high above Crawly. 

He grinned. "Oh, did you  _ like  _ that, my little snake? We're not humans, I thought we'd been playing it a little tame sticking to human configuration."

Crawly only sobbed. He forced himself up on his good arm, saw the mess of seed and blood pooled between his legs.

He was  _ bleeding,  _ just like he'd feared, delicate folds torn and bloodied and messy. 

Lucifer threw his robe in his face. "Get dressed and go, Crawly. You've done well on Earth. Report back to Beelzebub next month." 

"My lord-" Crawly cut himself off, dried his face on his robe before lowering it and motioning to his wrist. 

It was heavily swollen, aching and painful. Without touching it he could tell his bones were out of place, and it was beyond his ability to heal at the moment. 

Lucifer bared his teeth in what could have been a snarl or a smile. "Why don't you get your angel to fix it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Crawly didn't answer, and Lucifer eventually walked over to where he sat on the ground, wrapped a hand around the broken joint and in one more bright flash of pain forced the bones back together. 

Crawly immediately pulled his hand back to his chest, flexing his fingers. "Should I thank you, my lord?" He asked, hesitantly flicking his eyes up to gaze at Satan. 

"No. Demons don't say thank you. I  _ own  _ you, I only fixed it because I don't like damaged property. Get dressed and get out, Crawly," Lucifer replied. 

Crawly didn't stall again. He pulled his robe back over his head, got to his feet on weak and shaking legs that would barely hold him upright. 

He could feel the sticky, swollen, painful mess between his legs, protesting to every step he took, the angry ache of the little nub Lucifer had abused and then not bothered to finish with. 

Crawly had difficulty seeing what he had gotten out of the arrangement this time, but he knew there must have been something. It was a game, and games had both give and take. 

Maybe he just had to give a little more this time. 

He leaned against the wall as he made his way back to the surface, unable to walk without something to help support him. 

He was about halfway back when he realized there was no sense in leaving, 

The Earth would be flooded. That was a good enough reason as any for him to find a small back room somewhere in Hell people likely forgot existed, curl up on the ground, and go to sleep. 


	3. Golgotha

“We had him!” 

Crawly- Crowley, as she was now insisting on, had never seen Lucifer this angry. It made her nervous, too nervous to speak at first. 

“He was here, he was  _ ours!  _ And we  _ lost him!  _ The son of  _ The Almighty _ was in Hell and we let him get out!” 

“My lord,” Crowley said mildly, biting at her lip. “He was never ours to keep.” 

“He  _ should _ have been!” Lucifer snarled. He rounded on Crowley, a fire in his eyes. “He  _ would _ have been if you hadn’t failed!”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. “My lord, there was never any chance of that working, he was the  _ Son of God. _ I never stood a chance, I did what I could but-”

“You took him on a bloody world tour, Crawly-”

“Crowley.” 

“Don’t interrupt me, snake! I told the  _ original tempter _ to tempt the Son of God, thinking that she would  _ never _ fail me, she’s the  _ source _ of sin in humans and you failed!” 

Crowley flinched backwards, taking a step away from Lucifer and something in the devil's eyes shifted. 

Lucifer took a deep breath. 

He was beautiful when he wasn't terrifying, finely carved, the best work the Almighty had done. The anger slowly faded from his face, he held a hand out to Crowley. 

"I'm overly stressed. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You're right, you did what you could. I can't have expected you to tempt the Son of God, I should have gone myself. You tempted the  _ humans,  _ but I tempted the  _ angels.  _ I should have known." 

Crowley stood, shifting uncomfortably, unsure how to react.

Lucifer would never say he was sorry. The devil didn't apologize. Crowley would have to pick up if he was genuine from context. 

"Come here, my little snake.  _ You  _ must be tired and stressed from all this time in the desert. Don't you want to feel  _ good?  _ You know I'll make it good for you, Crowley. I always have, all but that one time."

Crowley hesitated a moment more, then reached her hand out, let Lucifer grab it.

He was right. There was always release at the end, always a wash of relief and pleasure. 

She might leave in pain, but she wouldn't leave unsatisfied. 

_ "Excellent.  _ Good choice, Crowley."

Crowley had expected that to be it, and in the next moment she would find herself slammed up against the wall, or thrown onto the rough stone floor. 

That wasn't the case. Lucifer kept a hold of her hand, led her into the back where there was actually a rather soft looking bed set up. "That's new," she remarked. 

Lucifer smirked. "Get undressed, lie down, get comfortable. I have a feeling we  _ both  _ need this." 

The kindness was making Crowley nervous, but she unwrapped her veil from around her copper hair, dropped it to the floor and then did the same with her long black robe. 

Lucifer stalked over to her as she was lying down. "That's new," he remarked, in almost a mockery of how Crowley had remarked on the bed. "And unexpected. Switch it up?" He suggested, but Crowley couldn't make herself agree. 

Crowley thought carefully about how to answer that. The truth was she had changed her shape on purpose, after walking out bleeding one too many times. "I-"

"Well come on, we don't have all day." 

"I-"

Lucifer huffed. "You'd rather keep this, I take it," he said, kneeling on the bed, atop of Crowley. He ran a hand along Crowley's soft cock, made her shudder. 

It was an entirely  _ new _ feeling, and she liked it for more than just that. 

She felt less  _ vulnerable  _ like this. 

"Well,  _ I _ would prefer a pretty little cunt to fuck. No reason why we  _ both  _ can't have what we want. You're not a human." 

He pressed a hand to Crowley's bare stomach, and she almost protested, but it wasn't even truly worth it. 

The modest cock surrounded by wiry copper hair remained, but Crowley could also feel a familiar opening between her legs. 

Lucifer had sunk into her cunt almost the moment he made it, as deep as he could force himself without damaging something. 

"Fuck, Crowley, you're always so tight…" he hissed, pausing a moment to savour it, which gave Crowley a chance to relax. She knew by now he liked feeling every twitch and jolt of her muscles as she settled in to be used to his width and length. 

Of course, he didn't want her to settle completely. He moved before she could, keeping the painful stretch very much present as he began to thrust into her. 

Lucifer fucked her hard and fast, the way she had learned he  _ liked  _ it, barely giving her body time to open up to accept him. 

It hurt, it always did, but it was a delicious sort of pain. She couldn't get off like that, not with only Lucifer's cock, they both knew that, but her pleasure wasn't the point right now. Lucifer would tend to it after. 

Even so, it started the fire burning in her belly, and Lucifer's hard and fast thrusts got easier, less painful as slick began to gather there. 

The cock she had only manifested the other day was hard against her belly as Lucifer thrust into her, red and dripping ever so slightly onto her skin, unable to contain itself. 

The devil didn’t waste time. He ignored any noise she made, kept up his brutal pace, chasing his own release. 

This was how the exchange always went. 

Lucifer's hips stuttered suddenly, he thrust even deeper than before, digging his fingers into her hips and pulling her towards himself to get a better angle, and released with a shout. 

When he was spent, he wrapped a hand around Crowley's hard cock. "You've never played with one of these, have you?" 

Crowley shook her head. Lucifer's smile got wide, looking menacing and dark for a moment before he squeezed up Crowley's shaft and she couldn't focus on his smile anymore. 

Her arms dropped out from under her, she fell flat onto her back and let the rough sliding friction Lucifer was providing mount the fire in her chest. 

It wasn't like anything else she'd ever been through, it felt so entirely different as the devil rubbed his hand up and down her cock, playing his thumb in the seed already threatening to spill over to lubricate his movements. 

It was a feeling that could drive her wild, easily. There was a delicious smooth-slick-hot drag with every move of Lucifer's wrist, and before she knew it, she was crying out, spend splattering onto her chest as pleasure spiked through her body, making her writhe beneath the devil. 

And then Lucifer started thrusting again. 

He was  _ hard.  _ Again. Already. 

This wasn't how the deal worked, they were supposed to be done. Crowley was even more sensitive than before and Lucifer had given her no chance to come down from her orgasmic high before he started snapping his hips back up into hers. His body dragged against her spent cock, driving painful flashes of  _ too much  _ up her entire spine with every movement he made. 

And he didn't slow. He thrust hard and fast into her until he spilled again, letting out a low groan. 

Now Crowley  _ really  _ thought they would be done, but just as she dared think that, Lucifer wrapped her hand around her own cock before fitting his over hers, squeezing tight, and began ruthlessly flicking his wrist again, making Crowley's own fingers drag uncomfortably and painfully over her sensitive flesh. 

She cried out, squirmed, tried to get her hand away but he didn't let her, his own fingers much larger and trapping hers against her skin as she was forced to jerk herself off, writhing and trying to get away with every new intense flash of pleasure-pain.

It took longer this time, for her cock to stand, it felt like Lucifer had to drag it there, painful and kicking and screaming. 

He didn't let up for a second, and all at once Crowley was thrown from the painful, intense edge, more hot seed spurting onto her chest. 

Before it had even stopped Lucifer was thrusting into her again, and she shrieked in pain, but it didn't stop him. 

She was absolutely sobbing with every push of Lucifer's hips, every drag of his hot, hard cock against the slick, quivering, protesting walls of her cunt. She kept trying to get away but he held her by her hips and kept her pinned, pulling her into his every thrust, slamming back into her with increasing pain each time. 

He pulled her to the edge of the bed, letting him stand, holding onto Crowley’s hips and shifting the angle of his thrusts, which was somehow more painful. 

It took him longer this time, her breath bubbled in her nose and tears streamed down her cheeks as he exploded inside of her. 

By now his seed was beginning to trail down the inside of her thighs, squelching passed Lucifer's softening cock and spilling out with his every thrust. 

She didn't even have the energy to scream when he grabbed ahold of her member again, she just sobbed, aching and crying as he worked his hand up and down. 

"Please…" she sniffled, snot trailing across her lips, voice catching in her throat. "Please…" 

Lucifer didn't answer, his hand didn't stop. He showed no signs of even hearing her as he continued, her heart raced in her chest at a mile a minute and agony courses through her body. 

It wouldn’t stand as easily this time, and Crowley couldn’t understand why it would stand at _all_ when it only hurt with every pass of Lucifer’s hand, rubbing her skin raw. 

She didn't know how many more times she could take it, just that the number  _ must  _ have increased with every time Lucifer started again, the sticky pool of seed on her stomach growing, the pressure between her legs mounting until every thrust was agony, a hot iron stuck in her cunt, she cried and sobbed and begged for him to stop and why wouldn't he stop? Why did he just restart as soon as either he finished or she did, barely letting spend start spurting before he would switch back to his other torture.

There was sharp pain in Crowley's chest as her heart fought to keep beating, stuttering and faltering as Lucifer kept it overworked. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move she could only lie there as Lucifer continued to abuse her battered, tired body, chasing his pleasure again and again and forcing her to find hers, although it was no longer pleasurable in the slightest. 

Her heart was fluttering, when she could breathe it was a harsh wheeze, her body couldn't keep up with this, that was becoming painfully clear. It had to stop. 

But she couldn't make him stop. She was too weak and broken to even try to fight him off of her now. She could only lie there as he fucked her again and again, catching his breath while he abused her cock. 

The pain in her chest redoubled, and suddenly blackness started playing at the edges of her vision, closing in fast. She couldn't feel her heartbeats anymore. She couldn't breathe at all. 

“That won’t do,” Lucifer muttered, moved one of his hands from her hips and pressed it against her heaving chest. 

The pain didn’t lessen in the slightest, but Crowley could breathe again. 

This time Lucifer couldn’t get her body to respond to his touch at all. She sobbed the whole time, but by the time he convinced her member to lift again he was already rock hard inside her. 

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” He hissed, leaning down into Crowley’s face. 

Crowley finally remembered how to form words. “Stop,” she sobbed, pushing a weak hand up against Lucifer’s chest. He didn’t budge, but his hand  _ did _ stop when she said it. “Stop…” 

“Sick of that, are you? Want me to stop?”

“Please.” 

Lucifer smirked. “Anything you ask for, Crowley.” 

He let go of Crowley’s cock, and she sobbed in relief until his grip on her hips adjusted and he was fucking into her again. “Prefer this, do you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Crowley just shrieked in pain. “You’ve never finished for me like this before,” Lucifer mused, even as he began to pant, betraying what this was doing to him. “I think you  _ can.” _

“I can’t!” Crowley wailed, although she was more grateful for that fact than anything. She felt as though if she orgasmed again it would be the end of her. 

Lucifer shrugged. “I suppose that’s a shame for you, then. I’m not going to stop until you do.”

The idea was almost enough to make Crowley sick, and she didn’t doubt that he meant it. 

Lucifer continued to pound in and out of her, rubbing against walls he had worn raw, silky-smooth flesh that could only ever  _ arouse _ the demon, it wasn’t enough. Even in this state of absolutely too much, this wasn’t going to be enough, she was never going to reach a breaking point. Lucifer would have her lying on his bed forever, fucking her as much as he wanted and driving the overstimulation forward until it killed her, but she wouldn’t manage to end it. 

Her release was no longer a reward. It had ceased to be a reward since the very beginning, and now it was an obstacle she had to surmount, no matter how impossible it felt. No matter how much each pounding thrust  _ hurt, _ she needed to somehow find pleasure in something she had  _ never _ managed to before. 

She tried to relax, to do her best to feel the pleasure in each movement rather than the pain, but it hurt so badly she could hardly focus on anything else. Her insides were raw, each small movement Lucifer made hurt like a burn. 

And he was having no such troubles. He came inside of her, at his own pace, three more times, and showed no signs of stopping. He was having no problems, and Crowley could only  _ just _ feel his every move  _ scraping _ at the surface of something that didn’t hurt. 

“Still holding out on me, are you?” Lucifer asked, narrowing his eyes. “I can do this all day. All night, too, if I have to.” 

Crowley sobbed. 

“Quit your crying, you asked for this.” 

Crowley sobbed again. 

It would take a miracle for her body to respond positively to this. 

A miracle. 

Quiet as she could, she snapped her fingers, too slick with sweat to make much of a noise. 

She couldn’t be dragged to release naturally, she had to do it forcibly. She cried out in pain more than anything, back arched and a final small dribble of seed landed on her chest, and her body flopped to the bed, spent completely. 

And then everything went black. 

When she awoke, Lucifer had finally,  _ mercifully _ pulled out of her aching cunt. Semen dribbled down the side of the bed from between her legs, built up from every time the devil had fucked her. “I’ll let that slide this time, since I didn’t tell you not to.” 

Her legs wouldn’t move, she hurt with every twitch of her muscles. “Why did- why- I-” 

Lucifer looked at her in confusion. “Did I do something wrong, Crowley? I thought I did rather well, you had  _ quite _ the voracious appetite this time. Always pleading with me to keep going.” 

“I said  _ stop!”  _ Crowley wailed, from where she was still flopped on the bed. “Why didn’t you stop?” 

“Crowley, there’s no need to be getting upset. I  _ did _ stop when you told me to stop, and the next words out of your mouth were  _ pleading _ me to continue. I thought maybe you just meant you wanted me to stop touching you. Honestly, stop being so dramatic. If you  _ really _ wanted me to stop, you should have been clearer. Now clean yourself up and go back to Earth.”


	4. Rome

Crowley was mostly interested in drinking himself into a stupor. He was sick of being ordered around, and he finally had a few days to himself, but he never thought to do anything but get drunk with his freedom. 

He hadn’t done much with his freedom for the last ten years. He hadn’t seen the angel at all, he had avoided going back to Hell after the last time he was there. 

He knew Lucifer was probably right. He probably hadn’t been clear enough with what he had said. He should have used his words  _ properly, _ and there wouldn’t have been a problem. 

But memories of the last time, of  _ how badly _ everything had hurt and  _ how long _ it had taken to recover, made Crowley  _ not _ want to go back to Hell.

He had even  _ ignored _ a summons directly from Lucifer. Nothing had ever come of it, but he had a feeling something  _ would.  _ He didn’t really expect to get away with ignoring the devil, but he didn’t  _ want _ to return to him. 

Not after last time. Last time had scared him. 

“I’ll have a jug of whatever you think’s drinkable,” he said, barely paying attention to the woman serving. 

“Jug of House Brown, two sesterces,” the woman replied, placing a clay jug down in front of him. 

Crowley slid the coins across the counter to her, poured himself a glass. 

“Crawly- Crowley?” A voice called across the bar, and Crowley swallowed a groan. 

He liked Aziraphale’s company, he really did, but he wasn’t in the mood for socializing right now. “Still a demon, then?” 

He frowned. “What kind of a stupid question is that, still a demon? What else am I going to be, an aardvark?” 

Crowley didn’t even particularly  _ like _ aardvarks. He took a sip of his drink. 

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m just trying to make conversation, Crowley.” 

“Well, don’t.”

The angel looked crestfallen, and it was Crowley’s turn to sigh. “House wine? It’s dark,” he offered, before asking the woman for another cup. 

She handed one over, and he filled it before passing it to Aziraphale. 

“Salutaria!” Aziraphale said with a smile, and Crowley  _ almost _ regretted giving him the bloody wine. “In Rome long?” 

“Just nipped in for a quick temptation,” Crowley replied, taking another swig of wine. 

“Tempting anyone special?”   
“Emperor Caligula. Frankly, he’s awful all on his own, so I’m not going to bother, and just report it back to head office as a flaming success. Hence, I have a couple of days off before anyone is worried about where I have to be. What about you?” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, I was sent to influence a young boy named Nero. I thought I might stir up an interest in  _ music, _ music never hurt anyone.” 

Crowley shrugged. “I guess it could improve him.” 

He decided not to mention the fact that Hell already had Nero earmarked, and he really didn’t think music was going to help that case. “Are you up to anything else? After all, while in Rome…”

“I thought I would go and try Petronius’ new restaurant. I hear he does  _ remarkable _ things to oysters.” 

Crowley thought about that for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten an oyster.”

“Really! Well, let me tempt you- wait, tempting is your job, isn’t it,” Aziraphale said, sipping his wine. 

“For a reason. You’re not particularly good at it, but I suppose if you wait until we finish the wine, I could be convinced to go along. Purely for demonic reasons, of course.” 

“Of course.” 

Crowley took that to be as good a reason as any to refill his cup.

He then offered the jug to Aziraphale, and they drank in relative silence for a time. 

“You left the execution with a young woman. Myriam. She was his mother, wasn’t she?” Crowley asked, took a sip. 

“She was, yes. He asked one of his apostles to watch after her, but I had a blessing for her,” Aziraphale agreed, “Crowley, why were you  _ there?  _ It was Hell’s moment of defeat, why would you want to see it?” 

“It’s not our moment of defeat, angel. That won’t be until the end of  _ everything. _ I wanted to see if they were really going to do it. Put the Son of God up on the cross, murder him for crimes he didn’t commit. Humans are brutal creatures, angel, but I guess I wondered if they would actually murder their own salvation.” 

“They had to, Crowley. He had to go to  _ you _ , to bring every sin to you, where they had to be.” 

Crowley picked at his nails. “We didn’t  _ ask _ to be responsible for them. Didn’t  _ ask _ to claim them.”

“Crowley, you’re the origin of  _ sin, _ surely you know your side _ had _ to get them.” 

And Crowley’d about had enough of that discussion. “Look at the time, angel, I’d better get-”

“Oh, but you  _ did _ say you would accompany me to Petronius’ restaurant, for your demonic reasons, Crowley,” Aziraphale countered. 

He had said that, hadn’t he? He was far too nice sometimes. 

He drank down the last of what was left in the jug, the alcohol had done a good job of making him feel tipsy. “Right. Lead the way.” 

Aziraphale was far too pleased with himself when he finally got Crowley to the restaurant, and they had a plate of oysters in front of them. 

The oysters were tastefully arranged in some of the Roman’s favourite imagery, the smoked ones that Aziraphale seemed to prefer being  _ very _ reminiscent of the phallic artwork all over walls in some Roman cities, and the raw ones…

Well, the raw ones  _ already _ looked suggestive. Petronius did  _ not _ need to arrange them to look  _ more _ suggestive. 

Of course, Crowley was a demon, so he thought it was hilarious, and Aziraphale seemed completely obvious. 

With a little bit of the sauce that had been brought out with their plates, the raw oysters weren’t bad, if a little slimy. Crowley kept eating them, but mostly just because Aziraphale was, and he didn’t want to appear rude. 

It was a nice time, Crowley felt a little warm and tingly after sitting for a while, but he wrote it off to the relative heat of the day, who’s sun had just begun to set. 

Aziraphale made all sorts of  _ noises _ while he ate, and Crowley couldn’t help but find them cute. Their conversation had morphed from theology to the colosseum to a play Aziraphale had seen just the other day, Crowley rested his chin on one hand, and mostly just listened. 

He didn’t need to speak. He was content to listen to what Aziraphale was saying.

His glasses made everything dark, which was probably why he didn’t notice how late it got until Aziraphale jumped to his feet. “Oh! I really do need to be going, I’ll just go pay and-”

“I’ll cover it, angel,” Crowley cut him off, despite the fact that he hadn’t even had the coins for his wine in his pocket when he had set out, and he was  _ reasonably _ sure this was the second or third plate of oysters sitting between them. 

Petronius wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between real coins and a miracle until he was long gone, anyways. 

“You don’t mind?” Aziraphale asked, seeming a little concerned. “I’m afraid they might be terribly expensive, apparently they’re getting hard to get-”

“Angel. I’ll cover it. You go on and get home.” 

“Should I say thank you?”

“No, you shouldn’t.” 

Aziraphale walked away, and Crowley fully intended to get to his feet, pay the owner and do the same when someone  _ else _ walked over and sat in the angel’s seat. 

Crowley looked up, wondering who would be inviting themself to join him, and caught a glimpse of pure black eyes before he ducked his head down  _ low, _ fighting the urge to fall from his seat and cower, if only because there were still humans around. “M- my Lord! I- You’ve never been-”

“You ignored my summons, Crowley,” Lucifer said in his melodious voice. “I’ve called you  _ several _ times since you last graced my office. I assume you had good reason?” 

Crowley’s throat went dry. “I- I was-” 

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a reason, Crowley.” 

“I was nervous!” Crowley said finally, the words burst out before he could stop them and he slapped a hand over his mouth as soon as he had said it. 

Demons  _ didn’t _ admit to being scared. 

But Lucifer had that effect on people. He always got the answers he wanted. 

“Nervous? Crowley, darling, what have I done to make you nervous?” He asked, reaching over to the plate still sitting in the middle of the table. “My, that certainly is some artistry,” he remarked, before lifting an oyster from the plate and tipping it back into his mouth. 

“They’re better with the sauce,” Crowley mumbled before he even thought about  _ who _ he was saying that to. 

“Are they?” 

It only made Crowley  _ more _ nervous to watch Lucifer dribble some of the sauce onto the slimy little  _ suggestive _ seafood, and eat that one too. “Oh, you  _ are _ right about that. They are better with it. So tell me, what  _ ever _ did I do to make you too nervous to come back?”

Crowley really wished he had some water, or more wine. His throat was dry as the desert. 

“You’re not still hung up on what happened last time, are you, Crowley? I  _ told _ you, you just needed to be more clear, that’s all. I misunderstood you.” 

Crowley grabbed another oyster off the plate and tipped it into his mouth just to have something to do besides answer. He sucked on it for a moment before he swallowed it down. “I thought I  _ was _ clear.” 

Lucifer laughed. “Clearly you weren’t, darling, or I wouldn’t have misunderstood you. Say, you  _ do _ look ill-at-ease. Why don’t you relax, Crowley? Eat some more of these… what are they called?” 

“Oysters.” 

“Have a drink, settle down a little. I’m not here to hurt you, you  _ know _ that.”

Crowley was about to remark that he didn’t  _ have _ anything to drink when a steaming cup appeared beside his left hand. 

“I thought you meant-” 

“You really do think me to be far more nefarious than I am. It’s  _ tea, _ Crowley, it will settle your nerves. A special blend from far south.” 

Crowley lifted the cup off the table, sniffed it, mouth just  _ barely _ agape so he could  _ really _ get a sense of what was in there. 

Lucifer might have  _ laughed _ when his tongue flickered out from behind his teeth, tasting the air and confirming the strong smell of lavender and honey. “You really  _ are _ nervous, aren’t you, my little snake? It’s  _ tea, _ just tea. Go on, drink up, before you work yourself into a fit.” 

Crowley lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. 

It tasted minty and sweet and flowery, like he expected from lavender and honey, but there was a little bitterness hiding underneath, not enough to be unpleasant, but enough to notice. 

Still, Crowley  _ liked _ lavender, and now that he knew what it was, he drank several sips before placing the cup back down. 

He felt  _ very _ warm. Uncomfortably so. It was like  _ something _ was thrumming beneath the surface of his skin, but he didn’t know  _ what. _

To fight the feeling, he drank more of the tea. 

It did settle and soothe his stomach, like he found lavender did for him. The bitter taste still confused him, but he couldn’t think of a nasty reason why his tea would be bitter, so he assumed it was fine. 

Lucifer was still snacking on the oysters. “Are you feeling better now, Crowley?” He asked, raising an eyebrow when Crowley, rather soon after being given it, set down the empty cup. 

He was. He felt  _ strange, _ but he wasn’t  _ scared _ anymore. He nodded. 

“Not so afraid of me anymore? I assure you, I really didn’t think I was doing  _ anything _ you didn’t want me to,” Lucifer purred, placing his hand atop Crowley’s. “Here I thought you just wanted to… let go. To  _ relax. _ It won’t happen again.” 

No one had said anything about  _ anything _ happening again, but Crowley didn’t protest. He was tired and he still felt funny. “Look, if you want to keep chatting, can we at least go home? I’ve been busy all day,” he said. 

“Crowley, I can smell the principality as if I was  _ drowning _ in him. I  _ know _ you haven’t been working, but if you’d like to take this back to your place, I’m  _ not _ opposed.” 

Crowley should have  _ known _ Lucifer could smell Aziraphale. He should have realized that Lucifer would know he’d been here all afternoon. “Caligula doesn’t need much help,” he mumbled, ate another of the dwindling supply of oysters. 

“That sounds  _ dangerously _ close to admitting to your boss that you’re bored, Crowley,” Lucifer remarked, “are you sure that’s wise, or would you rather tell me how you spent  _ all morning _ working on Caligula and were just getting a little rest so you could come at it full force tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, that,” Crowley agreed. 

Now he  _ knew _ Lucifer laughed at him. The devil waved a hand, the table cleared, some coins were left in the place of the plates. “Why don’t you show me where you’ve been staying while you’re hard at work.”

Crowley, for his part, was feeling rather drowsy, and nearly fell over as soon as he tried to stand, tripping over his toga. 

Lucifer caught him without a word, helped him catch his balance. He wasn’t really sure  _ why, _ it wasn’t very demonic  _ not _ to just let Crowley fall on his face, but he wasn’t complaining. “You’re not mad?” 

“I think we can stop playing that  _ particular _ game. It seems it  _ scared you _ last time we did.” 

Crowley thought Lucifer’s voice sounded mocking, but he didn’t remark on it. The hand that had caught Crowley’s arm before he felt trailed down to his hand, the way romantic couples walked, which didn’t seem right for the devil and a demon, but it wasn’t worth commenting on. 

Crowley’s room was in a cheap inn, really nothing more than four walls and a straw mattress, but that didn’t seem to matter to Lucifer. 

Lucifer didn’t often care to help Crowley undress, but he pulled the snake pin from the shoulder of Crowley’s toga, and that was all he really needed to do. Romans were great for clothes that weren’t really clothes. The robe fell to the floor, leaving Crowley uncomfortably exposed and still overly warm. 

Lucifer prowled around him, naked and exposed, standing in the middle of the room. “Well, despite being so nervous, you’ve certainly worked yourself up.” 

As soon as he said it, Crowley realized it was true. That was  _ why _ he was so warm. Now that he thought about it, he could feel his sex pulsing in the cold air, knew what was causing the thrum in his veins. 

Only he didn’t know  _ why _ he felt that way. Lucifer’s presence in the restaurant hadn’t  _ aroused _ him, it had  _ scared  _ him.

Lucifer pushed a hand into his chest, Crowley stumbled and fell back into the bed, forced to look  _ up _ at the devil as he tossed aside his own robe, stripped down to just his laced up sandals. 

Something was  _ very _ different, this time. 

Lucifer didn’t just have his usual hardening cock.

There were  _ two. _ Crowley’s eyes widened behind his glasses, but he didn’t manage to make himself ask. 

“Oh, surely  _ you _ must be familiar with all of this,” Lucifer said, making his way over to the bed. “After all, I got the idea from  _ snakes.”  _

Crowley didn’t manage to say anything. 

“And since you’re being a good sport, and were just  _ so _ nervous, I’ll even let you pick how we put them to use. Do you want them one at a time, or both at once?”

Crowley didn't even have to pause to  _ think _ between the two terrible options. "Both."

Lucifer actually  _ laughed. _ The terror, the memory of  _ last time _ , being pushed  _ so far _ passed his every limit, fucked again and again until he  _ broke, _ until every move was agony, must have been plain on his face, but Lucifer only laughed. “It might take a little configuring, but I’m glad you’re eager.”

The devil contemplated him, lying back against the bed. Crowley wanted to scream and run away, but that  _ wasn’t _ what his body wanted him to do. 

His  _ body, _ turned against him by some unknown force, started perfectly still, let Lucifer piece out how he was going to do this. 

His body  _ wanted _ this. He  _ knew _ that already, he  _ knew _ he was warm and tingly and there was just the slightest amount of slick gathering between his legs before anyone even  _ touched _ him, but he didn’t know  _ why. _

He was  _ terrified.  _ He shouldn’t have been internally  _ begging _ for Lucifer to put a hand on him, but that’s what he was doing. 

And Lucifer seemed to  _ know _ that. He seemed fully aware of the conflict going on in Crowley’s head. He crawled on top of the demon, who still didn’t move, still stared up at him. 

Plucked the glasses off his face and examined them. “You needn’t act like you’re  _ ashamed _ of your features, my little snake,” he said, folding his hand around the smoked lenses and cracking them between his fingers. 

He dropped the scraps of glass to the ground, unbothered by his bleeding hand. 

Crowley winced at the snapping of the glass, those had been rather hard to come by, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

Lucifer’s hands were cold, the blood sticky when he wrenched Crowley’s thighs apart, gazed down at his throbbing sex. “You really are eager, are you?” He remarked, seeming to  _ admire  _ the fluids gathering there for a moment. “Now, there’s a couple of ways we could do this, but…” 

Lucifer hoisted Crowley up off the mattress and onto his side, tucked one of Crowley’s legs up next to his chin. “Good thing you’re flexible, my little snake,” he remarked, prodding a finger down to gather some of the slick from between Crowley’s legs. 

Crowley  _ moaned _ , and he didn’t know  _ why, _ when Lucifer touched him. He should have been quaking, but instead his body opened up for the devil,  _ encouraging _ him to have his way.

Lucifer was quick to sink one of the two hard, heavy cocks, Crowley didn’t know what to call them, he didn’t really spend much time around snakes, into the snake’s cunt. 

Crowley hissed in pain, tensing up as Lucifer forced his way inside, squirmed but the devil's bloody hand held him fast. The intrusion  _ hurt,  _ it  _ always  _ hurt, although Crowley had to admit it slid more  _ easily  _ than it normally did and he still didn't know  _ why  _ that was, what about this situation his body found arousing. 

Lucifer seemed to ponder the second member, as though debating what to do with it. 

Crowley  _ thought _ it would be going in beside the other, and braced himself for a feeling  _ worse _ than the time after the ark, when he’d spent his forty days and forty nights of rain licking his wounds and sleeping in a small back room he had found in Hell. 

Then the hard tip of Lucifer's second cock pressed between the cheeks of Crowley's arse, and this time he really did tense and try to move away, but Lucifer held him fast. 

"The more you squirm, the worse this is going to feel. Remember, you  _ chose  _ this, snake." 

The devil kept his firm grip on Crowley's upraised thigh, lined himself in and snapped his hips forwards at the same time as he used his other hand to pull Crowley towards him. 

Crowley screamed. 

If Lucifer forcing himself into Crowley's cunt hurt, this was  _ agony.  _ It felt as though Lucifer had to tear through every inch of him, and he  _ sobbed  _ in relief when Lucifer pulled back, dared believe that  _ maybe _ it had been bad for both of them. 

And then Lucifer slammed his hips back up, impaling Crowley  _ twice.  _ Crowley screamed again, thrashed, tried to get away but Lucifer held him fast, and squirming only hurt worse. It felt like Lucifer had thrust a sword into him, burning and aching for every minute movement of his hips. 

It hurt  _ so much _ and he was stretched to the seams, forced to try and handle a cock in his cunt and arse, body bulging to accommodate. He glanced down, tears in his eyes, and he could  _ see _ where Lucifer’s cock stretched against his skin, protruding ever-so slightly. 

Lucifer saw him looking. “Do you  _ like _ that, snake?” 

Before Crowley could answer, not that he could form words passed his sobs over every slight movement the devil made, he grabbed one of Crowley’s hands and pressed it against his own body, where he could  _ feel _ Lucifer’s cock inside of him, stretching him open wide. “Keep that there. I  _ want _ you to feel it, since you seem to enjoy it.” 

Crowley didn’t  _ dare _ move his hand, even though the hot press against his fingers made him want to recoil more than  _ anything _ else. 

Satisfied that Crowley was going to listen, Lucifer sped up his movements. The cock in Crowley’s cunt slid easily, with little resistance, even would have probably felt  _ good _ if it weren’t for the pain he was in. 

The other one burned and tore at Crowley’s insides, and he swore he was bleeding within minutes, which he might have actually been  _ grateful _ for. The blood slicked the passage the same way Crowley’s own arousal slicked his cunt, making each slide of Lucifer’s cock just a  _ little _ easier as it smeared inside. 

Lucifer didn’t even seem to  _ notice _ that Crowley was bleeding. His breath puffed in Crowley’s ear as he thrust in and out, hands returned to holding the demon in place, knowing that Crowley wouldn’t squirm or move his own hand. 

He could  _ feel _ the sick slide of Lucifer’s cock, in and out of his slick cunt, against the palm of his hand that he kept flat against his skin, just under his stomach. He  _ hated _ it, but he didn’t dare move. Things would only be worse for him if he moved, he  _ couldn’t _ move. He had to stay still, leave his hand where it could feel his stomach distend with every thrust. 

Someone was sobbing. He realized, more off-hand than anything, that it  _ had _ to be him, Lucifer wouldn’t be crying, but he could barely feel the tears streaking down his cheeks. 

And the whole time, no matter how much pain he was in, part of him still wanted  _ more.  _ Begged for Lucifer to  _ touch _ him, to do  _ anything, _ to help with the mounting fire in his groin. There was nothing arousing about  _ any _ of this, but he was still aroused, still  _ desperately _ waiting for release from the very same entity that was tormenting him. 

Release that he was fairly certain he  _ wasn’t _ going to get. It was the same as last time, Lucifer didn’t bother to pay attention to anything that would actually satisfy Crowley, so although the fire kept building it was never  _ going _ to crest. 

He was fairly certain he was  _ begging. _ Lucifer’s cock was still dragging through Crowley  _ blood, _ and he was  _ begging _ Lucifer to touch him, to do anything that had a chance of bringing him off. He didn’t  _ want _ to, he wanted to bite the inside of his cheek and stop  _ talking _ but his body wouldn’t let him. He chewed the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood and even then he was still making noise, he couldn’t seem to stop. 

He was choking on sobs and he couldn’t seem to stop. 

Lucifer paid him no mind. His thrusts started to stutter, Crowley could feel it against his hand as well as inside, the hand he still dared not move, and Lucifer snapped his hips up with a  _ snarl _ and finished inside of Crowley. 

He didn’t immediately pull out, and Crowley was  _ again _ reminded of the time after the flood, and panicked momentarily, but after the twin hot spurts of seed ended, Lucifer’s cocks softened and Crowley at least got  _ that _ relief. 

Lucifer slowly withdrew, Crowley’s hand soon pressed against nothing, spend drooling down the insides of his thighs. 

He still gasped for breath, still sobbing, and Lucifer rolled him easily onto his back, spread his legs and contemplated his throbbing, aching sex. 

Crowley  _ wanted _ him to leave. He didn’t want Lucifer to touch him again, didn’t want anything to do with Lucifer, but his body, again, wouldn’t cooperate. The devil reached down and pressed his fingers into the slick and seed gathered in Crowley’s inner folds, and Crowley’s hips jumped of their own according, Lucifer’s fingers just barely grazing the swollen nub between his legs. 

The wanton moan that fell from his lips was  _ not _ Crowley’s own, but he couldn’t  _ stop _ it coming out, either. 

“Look at you,” Lucifer purred, stroked his fingers gently enough down Crowley’s mound that it  _ scared _ the demon, Lucifer  _ wasn’t _ gentle. “All of that and you’re still  _ begging _ for more. You  _ still _ need me to fingerfuck you before you get  _ any _ relief, is that it? Our lesson last time taught you nothing?” 

Crowley didn’t answer, and Lucifer pinched the little nub between two two sharp claws. Crowley screamed again, it hurt and it was  _ far _ too intense, and Lucifer laughed. 

“I could leave you like this,” he mused, pulling his hand away, sliding the seed and slick between his fingers as he examined them. “I wonder what you would do. Are you desperate enough that you’d finish yourself off, or would you lie here in this  _ filth _ until the feeling passed and you clothed yourself over the  _ mess _ between your legs?” 

Crowley still didn’t answer. 

“I wonder what you would  _ look like, _ snake, crying out on your own fingers.  _ Show me.” _

That wasn’t something Crowley  _ did. _ He never had. Even the times Lucifer  _ had _ left him unsatisfied, he had walked away from the encounter and simply ignored the aching in his body. He’d never even  _ considered _ what Lucifer was suggesting. 

Lucifer grabbed onto one of Crowley’s wrists, jerked his hand down and pushed his fingers into the swollen, sticky mess between his legs. “You  _ don’t _ want to disappoint me.” 

Crowley knew at least that much was true. He didn’t want to upset Lucifer, but he had to be  _ honest _ or things might get worse. 

“I- I- I don’t know  _ how.” _

Lucifer laughed in his face. “You’ll figure it out.” 

Crowley didn’t have a choice. He hesitantly pressed his fingers into his swollen sex, searching for the little spot  _ Lucifer _ found so easily. He wanted this over with, and he knew there was no sense in playing around when that would do it. 

As soon as his fingers brushed it, he lurched as though he’d grabbed a live wire. The feeling was bright and painful and intense, but he knew he wasn’t  _ allowed _ to quit. 

“I said  _ show me, _ Crowley. I can’t see anything.” 

Lucifer grabbed his other wrist, pulled his hand down and used his own fingers to spread open Crowley’s battered sex, putting himself on full display. “Like  _ that.” _

Crowley’s hands both shook, but he didn’t move his fingers from where Lucifer had placed them. He didn’t have a choice. If Lucifer wanted him opened like that, he had to stay like that. 

Unsure of himself, he pushed his fingers back into the spongy nub, flicked over it and found that to be much more pleasant than just pressing. 

Desperate to get this over with, he repeated the motion, again and again as Lucifer  _ watched, _ as he struggled to build up the feeling in his chest high enough that he could finally fall. 

It didn’t take much, he was already so worked up for reasons he didn’t understand, and soon enough the intense feeling washed over him and he yelled, gasping out in pleasure. More slick squirted between his legs, soaked into the mattress below him. 

It felt  _ good, _ it really did, it felt like relief to the frantic build-up that had been in his chest since the restaurant. He stilled his hand and pulled both back as soon as he was done, his fingers were sticky with slick and seed but he dared not wipe them anywhere with Lucifer watching. 

Lucifer’s fingers were  _ also _ still sticky, and as soon as Crowley had finished gasping, the devil shoved two into Crowley’s mouth. “Good. Now, you can get those clean while I get myself ready again. I hope you didn’t think we were  _ done.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those sitting there, wondering if oysters really have the influence Crowley was under in this chapter, no, they do not. They are rich in zinc, which promotes the production of testosterone, and dopamine, both of which will cause arousal in both the male and female form, and their yonnic shape also adds to their aphrodisiac qualities in a psychological manner, however, I can assure you, there was something in the lavender and honey tea, and it didn't help that Crowley was drunk before Lucifer even arrived. So go forth and eat oysters, they are not as scary as Crowley made them seem ;)  
> Please don't feel shy to let me know what you thought, as you can see, I'm anonymous as the author and you're welcome to comment while logged out if you feel better, but I would love your feedback, as much as it'll make me blush and feel vaguely ashamed of myself to read it!


	5. Arthurian England

Crowley didn’t even know how to react. 

He’d put himself on the line, he knew he had. But he had truly thought that it might be worthwhile. It had seemed like a worthy risk - and a good way to get out of this armour. 

Crowley walked back into the miserable tent he was living in, pulled off his helmet, untied his hair. 

He was most of the way through stripping off the black plates of armour when someone else in the tent made his presence known. 

“I could help you with that, you know. You just have to ask.” 

Crowley dropped his foot back to the ground, giving up on pulling off his greeve and whirled around to face the source of the voice. 

“Go away,” he said immediately, although he really shouldn’t have said that. He wasn’t allowed to say that. 

“That’s no way to welcome me, my darling little Crowley,” Lucifer said, raising an eyebrow. “Here I was, coming to offer you a chance to go somewhere a little warmer than this wasteland. What could I possibly have done to earn this greeting?”

Crowley decided to be honest this time. “So much for influencing Caligula. I had to lay in bed bleeding for the better part of a week,” he said quietly, unstrapping and flinging the greeve he had been removing across the tent. “So you tell me why I want you to leave me alone.”

He remembered that night too well. Remembered the pain Lucifer had put him in, each vicious thrust of Lucifer’s hips tearing at his insides. The way blood and seed had dribbled between his legs after the event, the way blood had continued to drip from his body even days later. 

Remembered the stark humiliation of being forced to finish himself on his own fingers, while Lucifer forced him to spread himself open and allow him to watch. 

Lucifer frowned. “And you’re going to hold that against me, when you were so desperate for my affections that night? Darling, you’re the one who wanted it that way! I gave you the choice, and that was the one you made. I might have been a little overzealous, but you did want both at once, what else did you expect me to do?” 

Crowley fought the urge to throw one of his sabatons at Lucifer. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he knew that he couldn’t do that, but it didn’t make the urge less potent. 

Lucifer had to know why Crowley had made that decision. Had to have known that Crowley would make that decision. 

He got the last of his armour off, sat down on his bed. Lucifer was sitting in a pile of various furs Crowley had accumulated to fight the wretched cold and damp. 

Crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I’ve got work to do, my Lord. Beelzebub assigned me to this wretched, damp country, and I’ve yet to finish what they told me to do.” 

“No, I rather imagine that with an angel sitting on King Arthur’s table round you’re not having much luck.” 

“I didn’t know about that until today. Tried to convince him to just go home, even told him I would if he did. He wasn’t having it.”

“So you’ve been having a tough time with the angel assigned to Earth again,” Lucifer purred, almost sounding sympathetic. “He’s been cruel to you again. Why don’t you come here, and let me treat you better?”

Crowley gave up trying to use last time as his reason to refuse. “This is a tent, surrounded by tents belonging to the rest of the rebels. There is absolutely no way I’m agreeing to getting up to anything in here.”

“Oh, darling Crowley, are you playing shy? There’s really no reason to, no one heard you in Rome, and no one will hear you here. I’m the devil, you think that the canvas walls will be a problem if I don’t want them to be?”

Crowley didn’t say anything. He wrapped another fur around his shoulders, pulled his feet up onto the bed and under the fur in hopes of being able to warm his toes and feeling them again in a few minutes. 

“You keep on complaining about the last times I’ve seen you. It’s hardly fair if you’re going to complain and accuse me of hurting you and not give me a chance to make up for it. Come here, you look stressed. Your angel has you all worked up, I’ll take your mind off of it.”

Crowley had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t getting out of this. 

A chance to relax would be nice. It might even warm him up a little bit, and he did know that sex with Lucifer could be good if things didn’t get out of hand. 

He flopped back against the cot he was sleeping in, felt a crick in his neck already building, it had been for the last month. 

He still couldn’t feel his toes. “Make it a little warmer in here and I’ll consider. It’s freezing and wet and miserable here. I much preferred the desert.”

Lucifer apparently didn’t know the difference between consider and agreeing, but when the air in the tent got considerably drier and warmer, Crowley didn’t find it in himself to complain when the devil walked over, grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the pile of furs on the floor.

Despite his minor annoyance, Crowley didn’t really mind. It was Lucifer, after all, he was going to get what he wanted, as least Crowley could, too. Not only could he maybe, possibly get a decent release out of this, but the warmth was lovely for his poor cold blood.

He was fairly used to this ordeal by now. Crowley knew Lucifer liked to remove Crowley’s clothing himself, so he didn’t begin with the fastenings, but he did lie down onto his back once Lucifer had rid him of the scratchy chaps and loose shirt he was wearing. 

Besides that one time, during the flood, if they were on the ground to start, Lucifer wanted him on his back. He didn’t have an objection to the arrangement. 

“Get up, Crowley. Perhaps you would prefer be the one in control.” 

That didn’t make any sense. That wasn’t an offer Lucifer made, but Crowley sat up anyways, he knew better than to disobey.

Crowley almost protested when Lucifer lifted him off the soft furs, sat him on the lap of the devil with his legs spread on either side of Lucifer’s hips. But he knew better than to protest by now. 

One of Lucifer’s hands immediately trailed down between his legs, Crowley didn’t dare to let himself relax just yet. 

This wasn’t how their deal worked. Lucifer wasn’t primarily interested in Crowley’s pleasure. He didn’t care about making Crowley feel good. Not first. That wasn’t the priority. It never once had been. If it had, then the three encounters he could remember so vividly never would have occurred, the ones that had left him sobbing in pain and begging for the end. 

This didn’t make any sense, Crowley didn’t know what sort of a game Lucifer was playing at, but it made him nervous. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. What if he gave in and this was all a trick again, what if he was supposed to do something else? Lucifer was tricky, you could never tell what he was thinking. This could be a trap. 

And if it was a trap, there was no telling what sort of trouble he could get into if he fell for it. He shifted uncomfortably before Lucifer even reached where he was going. 

“Oh, I do hope you’re not playing shy with me, now,” Lucifer said, raising an eyebrow. 

“This isn’t- you don’t-”

“We can do things how we normally would if you’d prefer, Crowley,” Lucifer said, reaching a hand behind his back as though to tip him back into the furs. “I just thought you might like a change of pace.”

The confusion must have finally made its way to being obvious on Crowley’s face. “Oh, relax, darling. Stop worrying, get your mind off that dreadful angel and let me take care of you.” 

“You don’t like to take care of me,” Crowley finally had to blurt out. 

Lucifer actually looked offended, and Crowley wondered if he really hadn't been mistaken all along. "And where did you get that impression, darling? I've always done precisely what you've asked of me."

Was this all still a part of the game? Never meant to hurt anyone? Just a rough bit of fun? 

Crowley's mouth was dry. 

He knew Lucifer was waiting for an answer now. If he didn't say anything, they might sit there forever, Crowley completely naked, Lucifer still clothed in his robe, or at least until one of Crowley's men walked in and caught him in the compromising position. 

"Alright. I believe you." 

"I'm glad to hear that." 

Lucifer had no sooner finished speaking that he resumed what he had been doing, slipping one hand down in between Crowley’s parted legs. 

Crowley was well-accustomed to rough by now. Lucifer wasn’t nice, he wasn’t gentle. 

But this wasn’t ruthless. This wasn’t the vicious stabbing pleasure that mixed in with the pain. This wasn’t Lucifer forcing himself into Crowley, oblivious to how much it hurt, taking his pleasure with barely a thought of Crowley’s. 

This was good. Gentle movements of Lucifer's normally brutal hand, spreading him open, rubbing smoothly along his folds, making Crowley's eyes roll back and his spine arch sinuously, he fought the urge to cling. 

If this wasn’t Lucifer, he might have grabbed onto his partner’s shoulders, pressed himself further down into their fingers, shifted and squirmed until everything felt just right. He would have done that if it was just him, would have shifted in his seat until he could press his fingers in just right, rub his thumb into his clit as much as he pleased. 

He had gotten more accustomed to the idea since Lucifer had forced him to try. It wasn’t a favourite pastime, but it was a means to an end, if the end was a floating high and a bit of relaxation. It worked the stress out of his spine and there weren’t many other good ways for him to do that. 

But this was Lucifer. Crowley was acutely aware of that fact, at least he was at first. This was Lucifer, a being who could destroy him without so much as a second thought, a being who could make this go from good to bad in the matter of a few seconds. Crowley had best be careful. 

He didn’t want to be careful, though. 

He let his eyes slip shut. 

With his eyes closed, he could almost pretend this was something else entirely. Could pretend that he didn’t have to worry at all. 

He curled his fingers into the piles of furs under his knees, let out a moan as the fingers trailing below him finally pressed in harder, reaching for the little nub that ade Crowley squirm, gasping as a thumb was pressed in with just enough pressure. 

Sparks skittered up Crowley’s spine. His muscles all seemed to jump with every delicious movement of the hand below him. 

The person whose hand was below him didn’t seem to be the devil anymore. Even though his eyes were closed, he was almost positive there was a pair of grey-green eyes watching him, that the strong arms holding him up were the ones that had once held aloft a sword at the Eastern Gate of Eden. 

One arm was still circled around Crowley’s narrow waist, pulled him down hard onto the fingers between his legs. 

The angel would of course have such large, clever hands, wringing Crowley out on them. When he did this by himself, it took him ages, he somehow just couldn’t manage to get the feeling to built up the same way it was right now, but it seemed the beautiful, soft, warm, strong angel could. Crowley gasped for air, breath catching in his throat, gave in and pressed himself down hard into the fingers, canting his hips. The pressure was excellent but he needed more, even more now. 

His muscles tensed and relaxed with each of his movements, it had been a long time since he'd felt so truly and unapologetically good. There was a tingling all through his body, his sex clenched rhythmically around nothing, dripping slick onto the angel's lap. 

He felt so good but so empty, wide open and begging for something to take him. Eyes still closed shut, he reached down for the angel's robe. 

Aziraphale was less squishy than he would have imagined, but he didn't have the brain power to worry about that. He lifted the robe up above the angel's hips, finding his way to his rock hard cock by touch alone before carefully lowering himself into it with a long, drawn-out groan that made the angel laugh. 

"Enjoying yourself, darling?" 

Crowley didn't feel the need to answer. He still moved his hips back and forth, but the angel took over much of the movement, sliding deliciously against Crowley's inner walls. He pressed his head down against the angel's shoulder, gasping for every breath, nearly overwhelmed, so close to there- 

Every muscle in his body tensed as he came, crying out and squeezing himself around the angel's cock. He could hardly breathe, everything was too much and not enough and pleasure flooded through him. 

Carefully, the angel tipped Crowley back onto the furs, where he could gasp for breath, splayed out underneath the angel's muscled thighs. 

He glanced down at where they were still joined when he could finally breathe, pulled his legs around the angel's waist as though to give him permission to continue. 

Aziraphale was eager to do so. He resumed thrusting into Crowley's slick, sopping cunt, and Crowley loved it. It didn't hurt at all this time, it felt like it was meant to fit there, pressing deep inside of him. 

Aziraphale reached a hand down to where they were joined, brushed his fingers against the sensitive little pearl hidden between Crowley's legs. 

The second he did, Crowley's entire body begged for more. He moaned wantonly, not quite forming words but clearly getting the point across, as soon Aziraphale finger moved in time with each of his thrusts, and a desperate, hungry pleasure seeped into Crowley's bones, running down his spine. 

Aziraphale came inside Crowley's sensitive cunt before the demon climaxed again, but not much before. Crowley howled this time, although not in pain. He had to cry out, had to release the feeling somehow but it didn't hurt, for the first time in a long time. 

"There, was I really so bad at taking care of you?" 

The voice that questioned Crowley almost sounded mocking.

The demon forced his eyes open. 

There was no angel with white-blond hair sitting above him, no grey-green eyes looking into his. The angel's cherubim face was nowhere to be seen. 

There was, however, a man with very dark, long hair, and eyes black as night.

"Surely that must have been good for you, little snake," Lucifer purred, as Crowley's fantasy crashed down around him. 


	6. Elizabethan England

"Tails I'm afraid, you're going to Scotland," Crowley reported, although the coin had been about to land on heads before he caught and flipped it. 

He really didn't want to go to Scotland. 

"It's been like this every performance, Juliet. It would take a miracle for anyone to come and see Hamlet!" The playwright complained to the woman selling oysters and fruits. 

Aziraphale shot Crowley a pleading look. 

Crowley sighed. 

It was a terrible play. People would hate it, he could pass it off as making people miserable. "Alright, fine, I'll do that one, my treat," he agreed, rolling his eyes behind his glasses. 

"Oh, really?" Aziraphale asked, and Satan, he was practically  _ glowing.  _

"I still prefer the funny ones," Crowley warned, and he walked out of the theatre. 

He forgot about the whole encounter with Aziraphale shortly thereafter. 

Until about three days had passed. 

"I didn't think I'd run into you here, Crowley. I was under the impression that Beelzebub had sent you to Edinburgh. But here I find you still in London, cursing a terrible play by an english playwright. Only you're not even properly cursing it, you're making it successful. And as far as I know you've never shown interest in plays before, and I certainly know that Hell has no interest in this play, so what are you doing?"

Crowley whirled around. "My lord," he said, trying not to let the panic that was overtaking him bleed into his words. 

Lucifer had not returned to Earth in a very long time. Crowley, despite the last encounter having a surprising twist had not returned to hell in over a millennia. 

The last time he had seen Lucifer remained when he had been playing the Black Knight, living in tents, shortly after having been moved into Eastern Europe instead of the middle East. 

He had acclimatized reluctantly, although his cold blood still resented the fog and the rain. However, this appeared to be where human history was bringing them, and he supposed you wouldn't be returning to the Middle East for a very long time.

It was painfully obvious that whatever assignment Beelzebub above had given him, to tempt a few clan leaders up in Edinburgh, had not come from Beelzebub. Or at the very least, if it had, the Lord of the Flies had decided to inform Lucifer on where Crowley was supposed to be.

Hell would see that the tasks were done, and assume that it had been him. There would be no need to check in.

But Lucifer wasn't interested in what Crowley was doing. He was interested in where Crowley was, and that meant that he would notice Crowley was not in Edinburgh.

Which he now had. 

"I wasn't expecting you," Crowley said, biting his lip. 

"Clearly. Why aren't you doing your assignment, Crowley? I shouldn't have found you in London. What's going on? You  _ reek  _ of divinity, and you're not doing your demonic duties. Perhaps you're too distracted here on Earth… maybe I should reassign you. Send a new demon to earth, keep you where I can keep an eye on you," Lucifer murmured. He stalked around Crowley like a predator. "is that what you want? You need someone to keep you on task, keep you away from your little  _ angel?"  _

Crowley hard as Lucifer circled him. "I'll get it done, my lord," he said, voice dry and a little raspy. "I just had some business to attend to here, but the work in Edinburgh will get done." 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, and Crowley continued frantically. "So is the task in Edinburgh the  _ only  _ reason you came to find me? It's been a very  _ long  _ time since you've come to Earth," he remarked, shifting his weight a little, trying to distract Lucifer with something he was  _ typically  _ interested in. "And now you're here… and so am I…"

If Lucifer didn't take this, he was in for it. He didn't want to be reassigned, he  _ knew  _ he didn't want Lucifer to be in charge of where he was reassigned. 

If Lucifer found out about the Arrangement, things would just get worse. 

Lucifer reached a pale hand towards Crowley's face, stroked his fingers down his cheeks and twisted the goatee Crowley had grown between his fingers. 

Crowley made a decision to shave his face as soon as he got away from Lucifer. 

But for now, if they got him out of trouble, then it was worth it. No matter what happened. 

Lucifer would be far crueller if he ever caught wind of the arrangement. It was better he thought Crowley was just slacking off. 

"I have a room," Crowley suggested, trying not to bite at his lip like he did when he was nervous. "Back at an inn not far from here. We'd have some privacy."

"Who says I  _ want  _ you to have privacy?" Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I'd rather humiliate you in front of all of London for what you've done."

Crowley gulped. He didn't like the sound of that, he  _ needed  _ some amount of his pride to be spared. "If someone caught me with another man, I wouldn't  _ ever  _ be able to return to London. They would try to hang us  _ both." _

"I'd like to see the humans hang the  _ devil." _

"They might not be able to hang you, but they would hang  _ me  _ and I would be tied up in the paperwork of getting a new corporation. No matter how angry with me you are, you know I'm the best earth agent Hell has. Do you want to have to rely on a sub-par agent until I get a new body?" 

Lucifer frowned. "You're lucky for that quick tongue of yours, Crowley. Take us to your room."

Crowley didn't give him a chance to think twice. It was a shame, he rather liked her current room and had a feeling that he wasn't going to want to go back into it after this, this  _ wasn't  _ going to be like the time in Arthurian England when the fantasy Lucifer had helped him produce had kept him… entertained for a rather long time. 

This was going to be like all the other times. Like after Eden, during the Flood, like Golgotha and Rome. 

And the worst thing was there wasn't a doubt in Crowley's mind that this could be  _ worse,  _ and it was still his best option. He  _ had  _ to let this happen, he had to do more than let it happen, he had to  _ make  _ it happen. 

A tool in his own bloody twisted fate. Crowley quietly led the way back to the inn he was staying in, tossed a couple of coins to the innkeep to assure his silence, and then walked down the hall to his room, fiddling with the key for a little longer than necessary, his hands shook just enough that he couldn’t get it properly into the lock. 

“That excited, are you?” Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow and giving the door a push. It swung open with no resistance. “I don’t know why you bother with keys at all.”

Crowley didn’t want to admit that fighting with the lock had been giving him just a moment to compose himself before he had to go in and face the mess he had created. “Right. Slipped my mind,” he said quietly, stepping into the dark room.

Lucifer was on him the second the door closed. Crowley didn’t bother to protest, only fought back because he knew the devil wanted him to. This was a fantasy playing out for Lucifer, Michael wouldn’t lie still and take this and neither should Crowley. 

He squirmed, struggled against Lucifer’s iron grip as the devil shoved him up against his own wall, intentionally cracked his head into the bricks. 

That was enough to daze him. His feet staggered on the ground, making him easier for Lucifer to throw around. The only thing really keeping him  _ upright _ was Lucifer’s grip, so when he let go Crowley fell to the floor without much trouble at all, barely managing two steps before his legs went out from under him. 

He dared lift a hand to the back of his head, it came back sticky with blood. Lucifer had probably done some actual damage that he was going to have to sleep off. 

Lucifer first pushed him onto his back, straddled his hips as he pulled off his typical robe. 

Something was very,  _ very _ wrong this time. Crowley was used to finding that to be the case by now. From the time during the flood when Lucifer had borrowed from canine species, the dual penises borrowed from snakes in Rome. 

But both of those he had been able to rationalize why they might exist in nature. He’d  _ seen _ the use of both of them, the way the swell had kept Lucifer forced inside of Crowley for longer than usual, releasing several loads of seed, the way having two cocks had meant that Lucifer did not tire and need a moment before continuing, if one finished, the other was ready.

The hooked, barbed spines pointed backwards along the lower half of Lucifer’s cock did not have a natural purpose Crowley could discern. 

He could, however, tell that they were designed to  _ hurt. _

His eyes must have widened in terror when he saw the spines, because Lucifer’s laugh couldn’t possibly be anything but contemptuous and mocking. “You didn’t think distracting me was going to be  _ easy, _ did you, Crowley? You would rather do this than tell me why you’re not in Edinburgh, I’m not going to make it  _ pleasant _ for you.” 

Crowley’s throat was too dry to answer. Lucifer didn’t seem to need him to. He unlaced the front of Crowley’s trousers, yanked them down to his knees and flipped him onto his back. 

Crowley’s chin collided with the ground, snapping his teeth together, but he didn’t protest. His heart was hammering in his chest and every muscle in his body screamed for him to get to his feet and run, but he couldn’t. 

This was the consequence of keeping the Arrangement a secret. It was worth it, Crowley knew it was. 

Lucifer dragged his hips upwards, but knocked his hands out from under him when Crowley tried to lift himself up. “Stay on the ground.”

On the ground, fucked into the floor. No dignity, no care paid to him at all. Crowley didn’t argue, he merely gathered his arms under his face so his chin wouldn’t hit the ground again. The weight of the modest cock he had manifested hung limp between his legs, even as Lucifer spread them open to expose the hole he planned to destroy this time around. 

If he had wanted, he could have ordered Crowley to change configurations, or forced it on the demon himself. 

But he clearly didn’t care, and this way would hurt more, anyways. 

Crowley tried to relax when he felt Lucifer’s grip on his hips shift, it would only hurt more if he tensed up, but he couldn’t force himself to relax. Not knowing what was coming, not with what it would take to recover on his mind. 

And with that, Lucifer snapped his hips forwards, forced himself as far into Crowley as he could make it. 

Crowley’s body was tight and dry and unyielding, but this time Crowley knew enough to know that would only be a problem for him. Lucifer wouldn’t feel the same friction as had been there in Rome. 

When he pulled himself backwards, the hard, keratin spines raked the inside of Crowley’s arse, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make him sob. 

They stung, and when he had pulled back, Lucifer only paused a minute before thrusting back in, this time reaching a little further into Crowley’s unprepared body. 

There was no relief to be found when Lucifer would pull out, the way the spines scratched Crowley’s insides, tearing them open rather easily. Each thrust inwards stung, messy with blood and irritating the cuts that were created each time Lucifer pulled back out of him. 

Lucifer seemed pleased with this. He thrust hard and fast, keeping up a rhythm that gave Crowley no chance to even try to adjust, each movement of the devil’s hips was agony. 

The next thrust of Lucifer’s hips was still agony, but it brushed  _ something _ inside of Crowley that sent sparks shooting through his body, straight to his cock even though the entire movement  _ wasn’t _ pleasant, and he still burned and stung and ached with each thrust. 

Crowley twitched, tensing up uncontrollably. 

Lucifer laughed. “Oh, you  _ liked _ that, didn’t you? You  _ liked that, _ you filthy whore. I’m tearing you apart from the inside, and you’re going to get off on it, aren’t you?” 

Crowley shook his head desperately, Lucifer jerked his hips back, Crowley wailed, and then the devil rammed full-force back into the same spot as earlier.

There were more sparks. Crowley’s cock twitched, something was starting to drip out of the end. He could feel it, swelling at the head of his cock, it made him feel disgusting. 

Now that Lucifer had found some way to make this  _ worse, _ he wasn’t going to give it up. He resumed his hard thrusts, each time colliding with the little round spot inside Crowley’s body, driving more and more sparks through him until he was hard, and more milky fluid was dripping onto the ground with each of Lucifer’s painful thrusts. 

He couldn’t actually get off on this, could he? Not in this much pain, not bleeding the way he was and with each movement Lucifer made feeling like a knife. Surely his body wouldn’t find that pleasurable enough to actually get off. 

Lucifer seemed determined to prove him wrong. Even after the devil had spilled a load of semen into Crowley’s arse, he kept pushing, kept thrusting hard into the spot until Crowley’s knees buckled and he came with a noise akin to a scream.

It was unfathomable. He hurt  _ so _ much, but it didn’t stop his body from convulsing on Lucifer’s cock, the orgasm from stealing away his breath. 

It was almost painfully intense. It felt as though it might never end, even though only more of the milky fluid splattered from his cock to the ground, no actual seed. It pulsed through his body endlessly, flooding over his brain. 

Before he had stopped shuddering, Lucifer dropped his hips in disgust and let Crowley crash back into the ground, in the puddle of his own blood and secretions. 

That was enough to jolt him out of the strange sensation. Once he had been, he wished he hadn’t. 

Even now that Lucifer’s cock was no longer splitting him open, he hurt worse than before. Peering back over his shoulder, he could see blood and flesh caught in the spines of Lucifer’s limp member, his  _ own _ blood and flesh. 

Lucifer honestly had been tearing him apart, and somehow Crowley’s had  _ enjoyed _ it in some perverse way. Some part of it had gotten him off. 

A sick, disgusted sort of guilt pooled in his stomach. Lucifer wiped his cock off on Crowley’s slacks, and left him lying helplessly on the floor. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Crowley’s own body had said it all. 


	7. La Révolution Française

"Oh, good lord."

Aziraphale did a very critical one-over of Crowley's attire.

Crowley looked quite fashionable, in reality. Dark colours, coiffed hair but not too fancy to arouse suspicion that she was an aristocrat. Not particularly feminine either, but she was a demon, she didn't have to wear a dress if she didn't want to.

She looked like a member of the common folk, those currently revolting and chopping off people's heads, although a very stylish one. 

And Aziraphale was hardly one to talk. In his fussy, cream coloured ruffled suit and shiny shoes, and wrists manacled in front of him, he just needed to lose a few layers to be the spitting image of half of France's sexual fantasies. 

Crowley looked the chain system up and down, thought about the fun they could have if he left Aziraphale's wrists bound, if the angel would just give in and admit he wanted it too, and then snapped her fingers. 

The manacles dropped to the ground. Aziraphale rubbed at his raw and bleeding wrists. 

"What the deuce are you doing, locked up in the bastille?" She asked, raising an eyebrow above her dark glasses. "I thought you were opening a bookshop in London."

Aziraphale sighed. "I was. I got peckish." 

"Peckish."

Crowley tried not to laugh out loud. 

"If you must know, it was the crepes. You can't get decent ones anywhere but Paris. And the brioche and-"

"And so you thought you would just pop across the channel in the middle of a revolution because you wanted something to nibble. Dressed like that."

Aziraphale's frown was adorable. "I have standards. I had heard that things were getting a bit carried away over here but-"

Crowley snorted. "This isn't getting a bit carried away, angel. This is cutting off a lot of people's heads with a big head-cutting machine. Why don't you just do another miracle? Pop on home to London?" 

Aziraphale must have been pouting with the look on his face. "I was reprimanded last month. They said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles! I got a strongly worded note from Gabriel."

"Well then you're lucky I was in the area."

"I suppose I am. What are you doing here?" 

Crowley smirked. "My lot sent me a commendation. Outstanding job performance."

"So all of this is your demonic work?" Aziraphale demanded, looking appalled. 

"No! The humans thought it up themselves, it had nothing to do with me!"

Aziraphale seemed skeptical, but he nodded. "Well, should I say thank you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Crowley bristled. "Don't say that. If my lot finds out I rescued an angel, I'll be the one in trouble, and Hell doesn't send rude notes. They send Hastur."

Or, if you were Crowley, Lucifer himself showed up for a visit. 

Aziraphale sniffed. "Well, either way, I'm very grateful. What about if I take you for lunch?"

"Dressed like that?"

The angel sighed and flicked his fingers. Immediately, the executioner Crowley had frozen was dressed in Aziraphale's fancy clothes, and Aziraphale had the executioner's. 

"I quite liked those shoes," he lamented. Crowley snapped her fingers and allowed time to flow again.

"Frivolous miracles, hey angel? If you wanted to see me, all you have to do is call."

Aziraphale blustered about how it was barely a miracle while he chased Crowley out of the cell.

Crowley had known it had been too long since Lucifer had paid a visit, and she had done something very predictable by showing up in the country she'd just received a commendation for when she hadn't even been in France in the last five years. She'd been dozing on and off in Italy. 

She knew Lucifer wouldn't have to work to find her here. It was obvious that she would show up at some point.

She should have been watching her back while she was watching the angel enjoy his crepes. 

But Crowley was nothing if not predictable, and she had predictably forgotten the real danger she was in the moment spending time with Aziraphale had become an option. She was like a horse with blinders, she could only see straight ahead at the plump smiling face of her angel. 

Lucifer could and would always catch her off-guard. 

After the bill was settled for the crepes, Aziraphale and Crowley parted ways. They couldn't spend too much time together, last they be noticed. 

Aziraphale disappeared around a corner, and Crowley decided she would go to the channel and get herself to England. She could always wreck havoc in England.

"Antoinette. Really? You have a true name." 

Crowley bristled when she heard the voice. "I've been using this one amongst the humans for years, my lord. Anthonia, now Antoinette. It's just French this time," she replied. 

He was in an awful lot of trouble, if Lucifer had seen who he was with. 

Lucifer gave no indication of what he had seen. "Take a walk with me, Crowley."

"In the middle of a revolution."

"The perfect time, wouldn't you say? Nothing is illegal but for being rich and powerful. You seem to have had trouble dressing down, but it will do."

Lucifer had never changed from his robe in the thousands of years clothes had been developing. It wasn't worth an argument to defend her style, so Crowley just nodded and walked up to Lucifer's side. "Lead the way." 

She didn't want to go. She didn't want to know what Lucifer wanted with her. She didn't know what, if anything, he knew of her day's activities. 

She did know there would be hell to pay if he knew anything, though. 

She walked alongside him, refusing the arm he held out as though they were some sort of courting couple. She was not attached to him beyond the way he liked to come for her to make her suffer. She had no choice but to follow, but she didn't have to play along in his romantic fantasy. 

Besides. It wasn't all that romantic. He led her back to the Bastille, back to the very same cell she had freed Aziraphale from. "You know what they do in here," he said casually, "you were commended for it." 

"Of course," Crowley agreed, biting her lip, "but I've made an effort to stay out of this particular prison. High fatality rate."

"But not as high today as it should have been. Not for angels, at least." 

Crowley swallowed heavily. 

"Am I to assume you have some sort of good reason why you rescued an angel? I should turn you right over to Hastur, he'd love a shot at a traitor like you." 

Right now, Crowley was fairly sure she wished he would turn her over to Hastur, too. Hastur was predictable. 

Crowley was the only demon with imagination, but Lucifer wasn't a demon. "I needed the angel around for something else. Didn't suit my purposes for him to die."

"Right, who else would you go for crepes with. This is Rome all over again, Crowley, and I'm beginning to think I was too nice to you in Rome. You clearly didn't learn anything from that experience."

Crowley's throat felt very dry all of the sudden. 

"Do you have any more excuses you would like to try?"

Crowley was wise enough to know it was time to shut her mouth. That, at least, seemed to please Lucifer. 

"I thought so. Now what are we to do with you?"

Crowley didn't say anything. She knew running her mouth wouldn't help. She was still beside Lucifer, so instead she dropped to her knees, ducked her head. 

Lucifer looked intrigued by her offer. "Maybe some other day we can see if you've gotten better using your mouth for a good reason. For now I think there's something else we ought to explore."

Before Crowley could wonder what that meant, Lucifer had a hand to her throat, shoved her up against the rough brick wall. With a flash of his fingers, something cold clamped around both of Crowley's wrists and she was suddenly jerked off her feet. 

The manacles. The metal bit into the skin of her wrists as she was hauled up to the point of being unable to stand on her but for the very tips of her toes, hanging at Lucifer's mercy, back against the wall. 

"My lord, I-"

"You keep your mouth shut. You keep your damn mouth shut, and if you're good enough, maybe we'll end things here. Maybe this is all I'll do to you after what you did for the angel," Lucifer hissed. 

Crowley's teeth snapped shut. She didn't want to cause more problems for herself. 

"You're going to stay against the wall, you're going to enjoy this and you're going to realize this is all you'll ever be good enough for, no matter what you do for the angel."

Crowley kept her mouth shut. 

"Not going to tell me that it's not about the angel? Not going to try to convince me you haven't been pining after him for the last five thousand years? That you've been sneaking around trying to trade what you have here, the best you're going to get, for what? The imaginary love of an angel? He's never going to care about you, you know that! You were an angel once, Crowley, and this is all you have left now! He's never going to want you, no matter how much of a fool you make of yourself for him."

The worst thing was, Crowley knew he was right. Aziraphale was never going to love her or want her the way she wanted him. This was all she was ever going to get. 

Could she force it to be enough? If she was smart, she would make it be enough. Maybe this could be something she profited from just like Lucifer had suggested in the first place if she just tried harder. 

Maybe she could make herself enjoy this. 

Lucifer's rough hands unbuttoned Crowley's trousers, jerked them down her legs along with her underdrawers. 

She felt exposed and humiliated, hanging from the wall in the Bastille, naked from the waist down. He left her coat, pushed her legs apart, exposing her cunt to the cold air. 

He had left her glasses on. He couldn't see her eyes. 

That was one advantage Crowley had. She closed her eyes tightly. 

She tried to make herself relax. She had done it before. She could convince herself that it wasn't Lucifer's hands on her. 

She could pretend it was the angel. Wouldn't she want the angel to touch her like this? Hadn't she imagined a situation like this while the angel was chained up? 

She fisted her hands into the chains as Lucifer forced his cock into her. It hurt like hell, it downright burned, but she knew it would get better. 

She just needed to relax. 

It was just the angel. It was just what she wanted, to have the angel's fat cock in her, his fingers on her clit. 

She groaned as she was thrust into, rocked back up against the wall, didn't try to fight. 

She could feel warmth building up in her core, she gasped for air, and her partner seemed to realize she had surrendered. 

It was what he wanted, wasn't it? The angel would want a willing partner, not a demon stiff with fear and struggling to get away. 

"You like this, don't you?" 

The voice snarled more than she would have expected, but Crowley paid it no mind. The angel thumbed at her clit, and her breath hitched. 

"Answer me! You like this. You like everything I've ever done to you, you want this. You know it's all you're ever going to get." 

Crowley cried out, rocked her hips up into his. "Yes!" She gasped, sweat slicking her forehead, "yessss…" she hissed, forgetting herself. Her tongue morphed to something more serpentine, she could smell sex and sweat on the air, taste it in the back of her mouth. 

"You've always liked this. No matter what I do to you, whether I hurt you or not you like it. If I didn't come to you, you would come looking for more. You want this." 

Crowley didn't manage any coherent words. She let out a breathy moan, long and loud. 

This was okay. This was fine. This was almost like what she wanted, if she just kept her eyes closed then it could be what she wanted. 

"Say it. Say you want me." 

Crowley didn't fight. She could hardly form the words, her tongue felt thick and heavy and she was so distracted by what his fingers were doing, how good and slick and aching for release she felt. "W- want you," she stammered, breath stuttering in her throat. 

"Again. Say you want me. Use my name, Crowley," the angel hissed. 

Crowley was too far passed want. She let out another groan, her muscles seized up and pleasure surged through her, sharp and intense. "Oh- oh- oh- zi- az-"

She shouldn't be saying that, but she did anyways. It was too intense, she couldn't help it. "Aziraphale!" She wailed as her body wracked with pleasure. 

She was immediately dropped against the wall. 

She was still gasping, could barely sense that she had done something wrong. Her muscles were still spasming, her own slick running down her thighs but the angel had pulled out of her before he'd finished.

"What-"

Didn't he want to finish, too? 

Crowley was still confused when a fist slammed into her jaw. The chains rattled, head snapped back into the hard bricks. 

She groaned and pried her eyes open. 

Lucifer looked furious. Fear coiled in Crowley's stomach, dripping icily down her spine. 

She shouldn't have said that. 

"All of this," Lucifer's voice was cold as ice, and far, far too calm. "All of this, the only demon in Hell with my full attention, and you cry out for the pathetic, simpering principality?" He roared. 

Crowley shied away from his shouting, it didn't help her at all. He stalked up until he was face to face with her, his breath choking her. "You have the favour of your lord and master and you would rather fly off to the principality, would you?" He demanded, grasping his fists into Crowley's lapels, holding her up against the wall, higher than the chains. "Take out your wings."

Crowley shook with fear. She didn't immediately obey. 

"Take out your wings!" Lucifer roared, striking Crowley again. 

Frightened into blind obedience, Crowley's black wingtips brushed the floor as they spread against the wall. She was shaking like a leaf. 

"You're never going to fly back to that angel. You're never going to fly again. You want so badly to fly away from me and never come back, that's not going to be an option anymore." 

Crowley was trapped. She pulled on the chains binding her, but they didn't go anywhere. 

Lucifer laughed at her. 

There hadn't been any weapons in the room when Crowley had rescued Aziraphale, but Lucifer bent down and picked up a pair of metal shears from the ground. 

She didn't remember beginning to cry. She could only feel tears streaming down her cheeks. "No," she begged, terror searing her stomach. "No, no, please, Lucifer, no…" she pleaded, still trying to get away. 

"Oh, it's far too late for begging, now, Crowley," Lucifer hissed. He grabbed the top of her left wing, slammed it into the wall and fit the shears around the joint of her wing. She thrashed, feathers dragging on the ground but she couldn't get away, she was trapped. "You had a chance to beg, you had a chance to plead but you couldn't even do that right. No, you begged for an angel when you should have begged for my mercy." 

Lucifer slammed the heel of his fist into the handle of the shears, forced them together, crunching through fragile, hollow bones and slicing through flesh. 

Crowley screamed, continued to pull but now her thrashing worked in Lucifer's favour, helped him sever the tendons and bones and muscles between the two joints of her wing. 

She was sick when one half of her midnight black wing dropped to the ground. Blood poured from the wound, pain wracked her entire body. She sobbed, and Lucifer released her mangled wing. It flapped uselessly, spraying blood across the walls. 

Lucifer simply took his shears over to her right side, and pinned her second wing up against the wall. 

She continued to sob and beg and plead, but it did her no good. Lucifer was cold and businesslike while he slid the cold blades of the shears onto either side of the joint of Crowley's wing, didn't even react to her crying. 

He slammed the shears shut, slicing into her joint and crunching through bone. She wailed, fell against the chains, absolute deadweight. Lucifer yanked her false-wing up to finish severing her pinion, snapped the shears back through the remainder of her bloodied flesh. 

Her second pinion dropped to the floor. Lucifer released her right wing, banished the shears as he let them fall from his hand. 

Crowley hung against the chains, arms pulling on their sockets, knees unable to hold her up, sobbing. 

Lucifer snapped his fingers and she dropped to the ground, wrists bloody and raw. 

"Do try to learn your lesson this time, Crowley. I'd hate to have to think of something else to teach you with." 

He had blood splatter across his face. 

As insult to injury, before he left the Bastille, Lucifer piled and burned the broken pieces of her wings. 

She would never fly again. 


	8. Victorian England

It took a lot of sleep and a long time to get used to the lack of weight in Crowley's wings. 

By the time Crowley left the Bastille, blood still dripping from mangled wings, she had only had one thing in mind. 

She had brought herself home to London, and gone to sleep. 

And, in the kindest act she had been the recipient of in a long time, she hadn't dreamed. She had just closed her eyes and slept. 

A lot had changed when he woke up. It was a new century, with new fashion and new problems. 

But his own had not gone away as he slept. His wings had long since healed and scarred, but tracing his fingers over the mangled scar tissue in the joint, feeling the sharp points of bone beneath the skin still made his skin crawl and tears well in his eyes. 

And it was sitting there, cleaning his bloody feathers, that he had decided he needed to do something about this all. That his life couldn't continue on like this. 

He couldn't keep living this way, but the trouble was thinking of what he was going to do about it. He was merely a demon, and he was struggling with  _ Satan.  _

There was nothing he could do to the one who had done this to him. 

Which meant he had to shift his approach to what he could do to himself. 

And that was what had led to him mailing a letter to Aziraphale’s bookshop, asking the angel to meet him in Saint James’ Park. He didn’t really want to get out of his bed, but if he played his cards right, this might be one of the last times. 

So he had gotten himself dressed in clothes that miraculously matched current fashion, and made his way to the park. 

Aziraphale was standing beside him, tossing corn pellets at the ducks. Crowley fought the urge to pull one of them under. 

“Listen, I’ve been thinking. We have a lot in common, you and I-”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. We may have both started out as angels, Crowley, but  _ you _ are Fallen.”

Crowley fought the urge to bristle. 

Aziraphale didn’t know the first thing about the fall, or what it was like not to believe in a cause you were expected to. Of course he thought the matter was simple. “I didn’t really  _ fall, _ I just sauntered vaguely downwards and no one had finished the flight of stairs. I need a favour.”

Aziraphale frowned. “We already have the arrangement, Crowley. We stay out of each other’s way, lend a hand when needed, meet up for lunch once a century.”

“This is different. For if it all goes pear-shaped,” Crowley replied.

“I  _ like _ pears,” Aziraphale mused. Crowley swallowed a groan. 

“For if it all goes  _ wrong. _ I want insurance.”

It already  _ had _ gone wrong. He needed a way out, and this was the only one he could think of. How else could he get away from the King of Hell? The Angel of the Bottomless Pit?

Finally, he had the angel’s attention. Aziraphale turned to face him. “What do you want, Crowley?”

The demon shook his head. “I wrote it down. Walls have ears. Or rather, trees have ears. Ducks have ears?” 

He passed Aziraphale the note he had written earlier. “Do ducks have ears? They must do, how else would they hear other ducks?”

“Out of the question,” Aziraphale said, shoving the note back at Crowley, who refused to take it. 

“Why not?” Crowley hissed. 

“It would destroy you! I’m not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley!” Aziraphale cried. 

“That’s not what I want it for! Just… insurance.”

It wasn’t so much suicide. If things went on the way they were going, he would be dead soon enough. Lucifer would lose his patience one too many times and Crowley would  _ suffer _ on the way out. 

All this would be was a chance to go out on his own terms. Without additional suffering. 

The note read HOLY WATER.

“I’m not an idiot, Crowley! Do you know what trouble I would be in if Heaven knew I had been… fraternising? It’s completely out of the question!”

“Fraternising?” Crowley spat the word like it was acidic. 

After everything he had been through. Lucifer had massacred his wings over what he had done for Aziraphale back in France, had chained him to the wall and hacked through his bones and sinews and tendons and feathers, left him bleeding profusely in the Bastille, half-naked and against the rough stone walls with blood dripping down him, but all this was was a bit of  _ fraternisation? _

_ No _ , he wanted to shout, he wanted to scream it to the heavens,  _ this is not fraternisation, don’t you get it? I  _ love  _ you, angel. _

He didn’t know how long he had known that, but he knew it was true. He knew it wasn't a chance that he ran into Aziraphale as often as he did, he knew it was his cold, black, mangled and burned heart that led him around the world after the angel.

He was a demon in love with an angel, and that made him the very worst of all the damned. For that love he would be doomed to suffer more than any human could ever  _ dream _ up in their worst nightmare. 

And now Aziraphale was staring at him, as though he was  _ confused _ as to why Crowley was upset. “Or whatever you wish to call it! I do not think there is any point in discussing this further.”

“I have plenty of other people to  _ fraternise _ with!” Crowley snarled. 

“Of course you do.”

“I don’t need you!”

“And the feeling is mutual. Obviously!”

Aziraphale threw the note into the duck pond, and stormed off. 

Crowley wanted to still be made. He tried to mock Aziraphale’s prissy little ‘obviously’, but when he said it out loud, it just sounded broken. 

By the time Crowley had made it back to his flat, he had realized the glaring flaw in his plan, the one part that still terrified him. 

He didn’t know how Holy Water  _ worked. _

He had never seen it used on a demon. 

He had no guarantees that he couldn’t somehow do it wrong, and what would Lucifer do to him if he found out what Crowley had tried to do? 

He didn’t  _ have _ an escape. He didn’t plan to stop trying for the Holy Water, it was better than no plan at all, but there was no guaranteed escape. 

And everything he had ever done, everything that had gotten him here in the first place, had been for  _ nothing. _

Fraternising. Conversing with the enemy. That was all Crowley was ever going to be to Aziraphale, just the enemy, even though Crowley wanted to be so much more. 

He was better off just to give up. He already had the best thing he was ever going to get, and he was constantly screwing it up because of the angel. 

He shouldn’t have been looking for an escape. He should have been grateful that after this many mistakes, Lucifer hadn’t given up entirely on him. 

He knew what he had to do. What the only course of action was. 

He arrived back in his flat, stripped off his heavy black coat, his hat, his glasses. He wouldn’t go back dressed to the nines, it was disrespectful. He was going back to beg and plead and earn his forgiveness. 

He didn’t need fancy clothes for that. 

He ignored the looks he got outside for being as underdressed as he was, made his way to the wooden stairs that were currently the main entrance to Hell. 

And he walked down the steps, slowly and deliberately, all the way back to the office he had first reported to nearly six thousand years ago, after the whole bit with the apple, and he knocked on the heavy stone door. 

No one answered him for a very long time, but eventually, the door swung open. “Come in,” a voice called. 

Crowley had taken off his shoes at the door, as though this were some sort of twisted black church and he was a human coming into confession.

In a way, he was. He was here to confess and to atone. 

Only he was no human, and he had no need to confess his wrongdoings to God. 

Lucifer finally looked up from work he was doing at his desk when he heard the sound of bare feet padding across the floor. “Crowley,” he said, frowning. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know,” Crowley said quietly, “but I had to come.”

Humans had to go to confession. Crowley had to return to Lucifer’s office. It was the only way to make any of this right.

“And what makes you think that, my little snake?” Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Crowley didn’t answer, he finished walking up to Lucifer’s desk. Curiosity finally got the better of the devil, and he walked around the desk to face the red-haired demon.

"You smell like the angel. Did you learn  _ nothing  _ from our last encounter, Crowley?" Lucifer hissed, and Crowley stepped closer, pressed his forehead against the devil's shoulder, arms at his side, completely submitted. 

He was not here for a battle of wills, to see what would happen. He knew what would happen. 

He would  _ atone, _ and he might even feel better. 

"I have now, my lord," he whispered, voice cracking. "You were right and I'm  _ sorry.  _ I had to try again but- but you were right all along. This is all I'm good enough for and I should have appreciated it."

Lucifer seemed stunned by his actions, and after a few seconds, he pulled his arms around Crowley, rubbed his back. "Oh, my poor, sweet snake. How many times do you insist on having your heart broken?" 

"Not anymore. Never again. I'm sorry. You were right, I should have  _ thanked  _ you, I've been ungrateful and insolent and rude. Please, let me make it up to you, I'll not make the same mistake again."

Lucifer frowned. “What have you come here for, Crowley? Are you looking for some sort of comfort, to make yourself feel better?’

Crowley shook his head. “I’ve come to  _ repent _ and atone _ , _ my lord. However you see fit.” 

He had no idea what the devil might have him do. He knew Lucifer liked him for the sexual favours he would do, but he didn’t know if the devil would view those as a punishment. He didn’t know if he should view them as punishing. Perhaps it was truly how Lucifer showed him affection, and Crowley wouldn’t dare ask for something that might be affectionate in this moment. “Whatever you would have me do, my lord, I’ll do it. I owe you penance for my insolence. I want to make it up to you.”

Tears welled in his eyes as Lucifer stepped away from him, contemplated him. 

Lucifer frowned. "With how pathetic you sound? How badly you must have been hurt by your little angel? I could hardly make you serve penance when you so clearly need tending to," he said, brushing some of Crowley's hair off his forehead. "No, I should  _ dote  _ on you, the way I did in the tent all those years ago."

Crowley felt sick at the thought. Not because he didn't know that was what he wanted, but because  _ why  _ would Lucifer give him that. "No, my lord," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I've wronged you. II owe you this. You should put me to use as you see fit, please, allow me to make up for my mistakes. I deserve to be punished, Lucifer." 

Lucifer was still far too gentle when he cupped the side of Crowley's face. "If you insist, my sweet little snake."

Lucifer scared Crowley with the fact that he wasn’t immediately cruel. He led Crowley back towards a corner of the office he knew well, but he wasn’t forceful, he didn’t hurt the demon. 

When they reached the bed, Lucifer didn’t have Crowley sit in it immediately. Crowley knew better than to make his own suggestions this time. He was entirely surrendered to what Lucifer wanted. 

Lucifer tied his hands behind his back. While he was tying the knots, he asked once again if this was really what Crowley wanted, and when the rope pulled against the snake’s skin, chafing at his flesh, he reminded Crowley again that he had chosen this. 

Then he had Crowley lie down on his back, his shoulders popping uncomfortably with how his arms were stuck behind him. 

But he didn’t complain. He was here for a reason. He kept his head bowed, his vision cast down from Lucifer’s face. He didn’t look his lord in the eye. 

He knew as Lucifer stripped the clothing from his body, leaving him bare and freezing in the office, that this was what he deserved.

He was a sinner, and he was here to repent. He had strayed from Lucifer. 

Whatever the devil did to him now, was simply to realign him with his purpose.

This was what he deserved. No matter how bruised and battered and abused he left, he needed this. This would make things right. 


	9. World War II

Crowley meant to never go in the bookshop this time around. 

But he had followed Aziraphale inside without a word, accepted the glass of wine that the angel offered, refused to let him look at his feet, and listened to what Aziraphale had to say intently. 

He knew it was a waste of time. He didn't even know why he had bothered to show up at the church. Aziraphale didn't care about him the way he cared about the angel. 

He was supposed to have learned his lesson and repented. 

But yet he had arrived in the church, burned the soles of his feet bloody rescuing the angel he had sworn he had left behind. That he wouldn’t care about anymore. 

The way Aziraphale had looked at him when he had handed over the books had almost been enough to give Crowley’s foolish heart a hope. But there was no hope for him. He had companionship in one being, and one being only, and he was reasonably sure that being liked to hurt him. Liked to put him in pain.

He was supposed to believe he was blessed and honoured by Lucifer’s attention, but it felt like it had been such a long time since they had agreed on a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

Now Crowley dreaded Lucifer’s visits just as much as he yearned for them. 

He knew he would end the encounter with pain and suffering, but wasn’t it worth it to feel an approximation of the love and affection he craved? Lucifer didn’t love him, but he pretended, and that was more than Crowley would have without him. 

He knew Lucifer would be making an appearance tonight. With his luck, there was no way his master wouldn’t arrive just after he had seen the angel again. When he was miserable from yet another rejection and ready to beg for the smallest bit of affection. Ready to take whatever small comfort Lucifer would give him gladly, to drink it in greedily and beg for more if Lucifer gave him the chance. 

He just needed to bask in the feeling of being wanted. Even if it was a lie. 

He took a shower when he got home. If there was one thing he had learned from last time, he didn’t want to smell like the angel. He needed Lucifer to believe that he really was done. He left bloody, raw footprints on the dark stone tiles, but the hot water did something to relax his muscles, and at least there was comfort in that. 

It was while he was rinsing suds out of his hair that he realized he wasn’t alone. 

It was a presence he sensed before he turned around and saw the black eyes staring at him, full of something akin to hunger. 

Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but Lucifer didn’t give him a chance. He stepped forwards, backing Crowley against the black stone wall of his shower in seconds. 

"Lucifer, wait-"

Lucifer didn't say anything, he pressed a hand against Crowley's mouth, taking away the serpent's ability to speak, too. 

He was not playing games, he was not messing about. Crowley's feet ached with every shift in his weight, he tried to stay still but it was hard when the devil jerked his legs apart. 

Trousers in this century fit better with something to fill them. Lucifer sneered, didn't even bother to say anything. He pressed a clawed hand into Crowley's stomach and exerted his will over the demon's body, which morphed to Lucifer's wants. 

He didn't get a chance to protest before Lucifer had forced himself inside the cunt he had forced the demon to sport. There were no words, no requests not even the illusion of asking permission before Lucifer was crashing into him, fucking him hard, slamming his hips into the stone walls of the shower. 

Crowley flailed to try to keep his balance, his hand knocked in to the shower controls. Instantly, the temperature rose, scalding his skin. Lucifer was completely obviously, ignoring everything Crowley did in favour of fucking his cunt the way he wanted to. Fast and rough and mean. 

Lucifer forced his way into Crowley, slamming his way inside, without a care in the world about Crowley's feelings. The devil was brutal and uncaring. 

It was tight and rough and uncomfortable. Crowley had six thousand years with this body and its variations to understand it now, he wasn't the confused, naive demon who had walked into Lucifer's office. He knew the reason that Lucifer's cock burned like fire in his cunt was because he was in no way prepared for the violent intrusion. 

He knew now why it had been so difficult when Lucifer had forced this on him after Eden, he knew why it was hard and painful now. 

Aroused, something would slide easily into Crowley. It still wouldn't get him off but it would certainly contribute. He had experimented on his own with nothing but his hands and his own fantasies to guide him, he knew that. Humans had even come up with new inventions to make the indulgence easier. 

He would confess to convincing more than a few doctors that he suffered from female hysteria. He had done it mostly at the end of the nineteenth century, any time he caught himself fantasizing about the angel. 

He had to be hysterical if he was still fantasizing about that. And if the cure was a ride on whatever the doctors wanted to call that clever machine, it was easier than trying to repent for his sins with Lucifer. 

But there was no pleasure to be found in this act. Humans were stupid, of course, that's all the pelvic massager did, was provide an orgasm for desperate housewives who had seven children but hadn't climaxed once in their life. 

Right now, Crowley was feeling a lot like those desperate housewives, having their husband force himself upon her with not a care in the world about her pleasure. Lucifer was still thrusting viciously into him, his feet struggled to keep himself upright. 

"What should we play around with today, hm, Crowley?" 

Crowley was stunned to hear him speak at all. He obviously couldn't answer with Lucifer's hand over his mouth, and Lucifer didn't want an answer. "I could knot you again. Do you know how you felt, panicking around my cock?" He hissed. 

Crowley felt a twinge of fear. Although he had suffered much worse by now, he still remembered the encounter after the flood had started, the way Lucifer's cock had locked itself inside his body and refused to exit. 

Although Lucifer hadn't come yet, he felt something begin to swell inside of him, squirmed desperately to try to get away. He wouldn't be trapped again, not like that. 

"Don't like that, do you? What about this one?" 

A second cock head butted against Crowley's cunt with this thrust. 

Lucifer was just going through the party of nightmares. This one he held onto longer, forcing the second cock into Crowley's cunt alongside the first, spreading him far wider than he was meant to stretch. He felt his flesh tear, he cried out in pain as blood ran down his legs in the hot water. 

"Not fond of that one either, Crowley?" Lucifer asked with a laugh. "Funny, you would think a snake would appreciate his own biology. Maybe next time we'll see if you like it more when I force you back down to your true form. I hear you're built for it, that way." 

Crowley thrashed, and gradually the pressure on his insides eased and he realized Lucifer had mercifully shifted away the second cock. Blood still dripped down his flesh, his legs were shaking with the effort of trying to hold himself up, and Lucifer was still thrusting into him when something sharp scraped his insides. 

"That's fine. I think these were my favourites, too," Lucifer hissed, snapped his hips back up into Crowley's before dragging himself out. The same sharp pain flashed through Crowley's cunt, he glanced down to see the hard, keratin spikes from 1601 had returned. 

Crowley tried to fight to get away as the spines bit into his sex, but Lucifer held him firm, slamming his hips up into the wall and finally taking him off his feet so he could control Crowley's position, forcing himself deeper into the serpent.

He snarled when he came inside the demon, but didn't pull out. "Or maybe I did like this one. Keeping you trapped with me."

Crowley panicked. He tried to squirm away but the sharp spines cut into his flesh, and now he could feel the same swell forming inside of him, forcing the spines deeper into him, forcing his cunt wider. He could feel the tears from trying to contain two cocks spread as Lucifer's member swelled in him. 

And then Lucifer ripped himself back out of the demon. Crowley shrieked, and all Lucifer did was thrust back in just to start again, Crowley's inner walls tearing as they tried to let him back in. 

Lucifer laughed as he tore his way back and forth, bloodied Crowley sex and left him sobbing, unable to hold himself up. Lucifer held him against the wall with a hand under his knee, letting Crowley's weight help him force himself inside again and again and again. 

Crowley's body screamed in protest with every thrust of Lucifer's hips. His cunt squelched with the seed and blood forced into it, grit his teeth and tried not to scream again. It would bring Lucifer too much pleasure to make him scream. 

Like last time with this trick, Lucifer shot off inside his cunt several more times before he dropped the demon like a used rag, blood and semen trailing out from between his crumpled legs. 

He was used and torn up, he could feel it without looking. Lucifer sneered down at him, spat in his face and walked away. "I'll see you later, darling."

The water was still running scalding hot, Crowley's skin was red and raw from it. He looked down at his bloodied feet, further up at the swollen, torn, puffy mess Lucifer had left of his genitals. 

Still, wasn't this what he had wanted? Wasn't this the sort of treatment he would take when it was all he could have? 

He had wanted whatever attention he could have. He had wanted any scrap of affection that Lucifer would give him, and he had gotten that. 

He should be grateful. 

"Thank you," he croaked, looking up at Lucifer as the devil walked away. 

Crowley only heard him laughing. 

He couldn't bring himself to move. He couldn't force himself to stand, or even to try. Sweat shone on his forehead, his sex burned and ached and filled him with all-consuming pain. 

He didn't stand up for a very long time. He stayed down, letting the hot water pound into his skin. It felt as though his flesh was melting, his body was split in two. 

He finally hauled himself back to his feet, let the shower rinse blood and spit and semen from his skin, leaning weakly against the wall of the shower. 

He had no energy to wash himself again, when the mess had mostly run from his flesh, he shut off the water and stepped out. 

Crowley wrapped himself in a black robe, legs still shaking, barely able to keep himself upright. 

He didn't understand this time around. Surely Lucifer hadn't realized he had seen the angel again. Surely there was no way he could have known. 

Crowley flopped down onto his bed, still breathing hard. He could still feel himself bleeding sluggishly, but he had no strength to deal with it. 

He let his eyes slip shut. 

He was still in extreme pain when he woke up, but he had to keep moving. It was still the middle of the war, he didn't have time to lay around and feel sorry for himself. 

He got back up, and got back to work. 


	10. Psychedelic England

“Can I… drop you anywhere?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No thank you.”

Crowley bit his lip, looked between the angel and the thermos in his hand. “I’ll give you a lift,” he said desperately. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Aziraphale looked downcast. “You go too fast for me, Crowley,” he said, and opened the door to step out. 

Crowley looked back at the tartan thermos. 

Aziraphale had brought him the holy water he had asked for. Crowley could barely believe it. 

Crowley was still staring in shock at the thermos in his hand when there was a knock at the driver’s window. 

He dropped the tartan thermos in shock, it fell around the pedals, and he looked out the window.

There was a pale face with black eyes staring back at him. 

“Get in the backseat, Crowley.”

Crowley didn’t quite process who that was on time, and someone pulled his door open and grabbed him by the hair. Lucifer yanked him out of the car, he scrambled to unbuckle his seatbelt and step out before the devil pulled half his scalp with him. “Wait, just give me a minute I was going!” He yelped, feet rushing over the ground to keep up as Lucifer dragged him to the backdoor and threw him inside. 

“You should know better than to keep me waiting, Crowley,” Lucifer hissed. 

“I’m sorry, you just startled me!” Crowley cried, scrambled backwards as Lucifer crowded into the car behind him. 

"Okay you can stop, I said I was sorry! Do we have to do this in the car? I like this car, you're going to make a mess."

"Quit running your mouth, Crowley," Lucifer hissed. 

Crowley snapped his mouth shut and allowed Lucifer to cram him up against the far door. He knew better than to keep arguing after Lucifer had told him to stop. 

The devil wasn't in a good mood, Crowley could tell. He looked angry as he forced Crowley's back to bend at an angle it shouldn't have against the door and tore off his belt. "You smell like the angel again, Crowley. I thought you had learned your lesson." 

Crowley didn't say anything. He had no defense for the fact that he smelled like Aziraphale. The angel had been sitting in the passenger's seat off the car just seconds before Lucifer had arrived. 

"I want an answer, Crowley," Lucifer hissed into his face, "why do you refuse to leave the angel alone?" 

Crowley had to lie. He had no other choice. "I was going to come to you. Wasss a- a gift. For you," he said, barely managing to get the words out, he was shaking so badly. 

"A gift," Lucifer repeated. 

"You- you've always liked it w- when I smell like the angel.. it wasss an offering," Crowley said quickly. 

Lucifer seemed to have to contemplate that. "I never told you that, Crowley."

"It'sss fine, my lord! I'd never tell a soul! I swear to you, my words are not used against you, only for you! If I ever spoke against you, you could cut my tongue right from my mouth, but I'll never do so! I live to serve."

Lucifer leaned in uncomfortably close, holding Crowley's yellow gaze. 

Crowley summoned a bit of his more serpentine aspects, and didn't blink. 

"I'll hold you to that promise. Turn your words against me, and I'll take out your tongue and eat it in front of you." 

Crowley nodded. 

Satisfied, Lucifer returned to what he had been doing previously. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, drinking in the near-cloying smell of angelic divinity that filled the car. 

After a bit of struggling with Crowley's tight trousers in the small confines of the car, Lucifer yanked on them angrily, tore them down the middle and shucked them from Crowley's body. 

All that stood between Lucifer and what he wanted were the simply cotton underpants Crowley had put on that morning. Lucifer ripped those away, too. 

Crowley was completely exposed. From trying not to be in Lucifer's way, he had one leg jammed down into the footwell, his other thrown up atop the bench seat. His spine bent at an unnatural angle, head pressed into the opposite door. 

Lucifer seemed pleased with how pinned Crowley was. He grinned down menacingly at the demon as he pulled his own robe over his head, and Crowley panicked. 

There was no sense in escaping by this point, what was he going to do, run through this district of London, naked from the waist down, being chased by a man with black eyes? 

But he tried anyways. His fingers scrambled at the door handle, he managed to pull it up but the door went nowhere. 

He looked above his head and saw the lock was in place, even though Crowley had never locked the back doors the entire time he owned the Bentley. 

Lucifer had locked him in, and at the angle he was forced into, he could try all he wanted, he would never manage to reach the lock and free himself. 

"You're not trying to get away now, are you, Crowley?" Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow. He shifted closer, Crowley could feel his heat between his thighs. He was seconds away from Lucifer's painful intrusion, from being attacked in the back of his own car. No amount of cleaning would wash those memories out of his Bentley. 

"N- no, of course not! Just a- just a little hot in here, was trying to get some fresh air!" 

Lucifer didn't believe him for a second, it was obvious. He dug his fingers into Crowley's thighs, holding his legs as spread as he could, even to the point of it hurting, and forced himself into Crowley without a second of preparation, forcing him to open around him. 

Crowley howled in protest. 

Someone knocked on the door of the Bentley. He heard some kind of lewd shouting from outside and realized Lucifer had not soundproofed the Bentley the way he had done to the tent in Wessex, or any of Crowley's rooms throughout history. 

If he didn't keep quiet, someone was going to hear him. 

"Still want that fresh air?" Lucifer asked with a taunting smile. 

Crowley shook his head desperately. An open window would make it even more obvious what was happening. 

"Then stay still."

Lucifer's thrusts slammed Crowley into the door, digging into his back and cracking his head against the interior. The thrusting still hurt, Lucifer was too fucking big to just thrust in the way he did, but Crowley had to just try to live with it, and he fought hard to swallow his small whimpers of pain with each press of Lucifer's hips. 

His back felt like it might break under pressure, his legs were shaking where they lay spread out throughout the backseat. Lucifer set a hard and punishing pace, uninterested in Crowley's muffled protests. 

Eventually, Lucifer let go of one of Crowley's thighs, leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises along his pale flesh. 

He lowered his hand to between Crowley's legs, where they both knew he could do something about the fiery pain that Crowley was in. If he was a little more aroused, things might loosen up and it might feel less like he was being torn apart from the inside. 

But Lucifer didn't lower his hand far enough. "If you want something from me, you should have to ask for it," he decided. 

Crowley wasn't sure he could form words at the moment. He was in terrible pain, and he was terrified to open his mouth, lest he be louder than he meant to and attract attention from outside. These actions were no longer criminal, per se, but getting caught like this was a good way to get beaten or have his car vandalised. 

But the only way it would hurt less was if he pleaded for Lucifer to help. "Please," he gasped, tears burning in his eyes, breathing stuttered and static from the pain. 

Lucifer contemplated that. 

"Please what, Crowley?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Despite him being buried inside the demon, he still had his composure. Crowley didn't doubt he could hold off until he got everything he wanted out of the demon. 

"Pleasssse," Crowley tried, a hiss escaping his lips. He bucked his hips, trying to get his meaning across, but Lucifer stubbornly ignored him. He continued thrusting hard and painfully into Crowley's cunt, hand still waiting for when Crowley said the right thing. 

Not only could he not figure out what that right thing was, he didn't want to say anything. Any noise he made might be heard outside the car. 

It was an impossible decision. Suffer in pain until Lucifer got bored, or risk taking a guess at what the devil wanted to hear, and trying to say it quietly enough that no one outside the Bentley overheard. 

Crowley liked to think that after six thousand years of this, he had a high pain tolerance, but that would be a lie. It was average at best, and these six thousand years had taught him to give in early. 

Things could always get worse. 

Crowley dared to look up, saw Lucifer's black eyes glaring down at him. Each breath the devil took washed over Crowley's face, hot and sour. 

"What's it going to be, snake? I can make this so much worse for you, or you can put that mouth of yours towards saying something useful," he hissed. 

Crowley broke. 

It didn't matter how humiliating it was, or what happened after, he had to take care of the here and now. He needed to get through this in order to deal with other consequences. 

He forced his conscious mind, the one that was screaming at him to keep his mouth shut, to turn off. 

He was good at begging. If Lucifer wanted him to beg, he could do that. He hadn't managed to do it right in the Bastille, but he could do it right this time. 

He had to start with the right name. His wings twinged with a flash of phantom pain when he nearly started off the absolute worst way he could. 

It wasn't his fault the smell of the angel was intoxicating, cutting through even Lucifer's foul breath and distracting him. 

"L- Lucifer-" he managed to say, trying not to cry out at each rough intrusion. It felt like someone was dragging sandpaper through his insides. 

Lucifer grabbed onto his hair, sneered in his face, although the words didn't match. "Yes, Crowley?" He asked, as though the demon had finally said something right. 

Crowley's chest was heaving for breath. It couldn't get much worse than this, the way pain filled every movement the devil made. "P- please, Lussssifer," he started, his breath caught and he almost sobbed as Lucifer snapped his hips up again, slamming him against the back door of the Bentley. 

"Please what, Crowley?" Lucifer demanded, finally giving him a hint. 

He only had to manage two words. Lucifer wasn't so unreasonable as to make Crowley write prose about it, he only had to spit out two words. 

"T- touch me," he whined, trying to shift back and away from Lucifer, with no avail, the door trapped him in place. 

Lucifer laughed. "Took you long enough, that's for certain," he remarked, and lowered his hand back down Crowley's body, grazed it over his clit. "You know, if you would stop being such a fussy little bitch, this would be easier on you. Wouldn't have to beg if you didn't need me to fingerfuck you before you came."

Crowley's face burned with shame. The last thing he wanted to do was have Lucifer playing with his clit, he just wanted to be free, but he couldn't help that Lucifer's cock buried in his cunt only ever hurt without some other form of stimulation. He couldn't help the fact that it hadn't changed in six thousand years, he didn't climax without Lucifer's hands on him. 

He was fairly sure something must have been broken down there, something he didn't understand the first time and had never learned to fix. 

But it didn't matter. Now that he had Lucifer's fingers on his clit, pushing him towards orgasm, despite the way his muscles were cramping and screaming in protest, some of the pain was starting to fade. He could feel himself getting wetter, the drag of Lucifer's cock getting easier. 

He would have sighed with relief if he didn't think Lucifer would have hated the noise. He sat completely still while Lucifer busied himself, dragging Crowley closer and closer to the end. 

Lucifer spilled, hot and sticky inside of him, Crowley swallowed a groan about the leather seats, which were quickly forgotten in his own orgasm. 

But then Lucifer did something strange. 

He pulled out, but semen and slick didn't drip from between Crowley's legs and onto the seats. 

Instead, it felt like something was still wedged in his cunt, trapping Lucifer's seed inside him. 

It felt a bit like a tampon, which were truly remarkable inventions and Crowley was shocked it had taken six thousand years for humans to come up with them, but it was more foreign and uncomfortable. 

Lucifer's grin was taunting, not in jest. "To save you the mess in your car. You really should read up on your own species, Crowley, this is another snake thing. To make sure the female has to keep everything in, increase the chances of her getting pregnant, and keep other males out. If it were possible, I'd give you another one closer to doomsday, but alas, the Antichrist has to be half human. A pity. You'd be quite the picture, all swollen up with the end of humanity and your angel."

Lucifer left Crowley still spread-legged and debauched in the backseat of his own car, shaking at the possibility. 


End file.
